Body Mostly Flown
A De Chirico head aslant on a coverlet, body mostly flown, the dazed prayers dumb. The ritual cigarette, the ritual drink: incense, holy water. No ambivalence, the woman inside fled, the whispers I make of tenderness—hers—she sleeps through. She's in that corridor, tunnel, the light is left on— shut if off. But the nurse has to see the thermometer. No ambivalence. No valence either, no speech. My own heart stops, skids. No lingering regret or all, sealed with stubbornness, forgiveness a ness from a life more fairytale, the hard breathing still, still. A wing flaps and fear scurries out, a mouse with a crumb it meant to eat earlier. De Chirico empties the patio.
Copyright © 2010 by Terese Svoboda. Used with permission of the author.
Terese Svoboda is a poet, fiction writer, and memoirist. Her poetry collections include When the Next Big War Blows Down the Valley: Selected and New Poems (Anhinga Press, 2015), All Aberration (University of Georgia Press, 2009), and Mere Mortals (University of Georgia Press, 2009).
Date Published: 2010-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/body-mostly-flown