Monday, October 25, 2010

Tell Me by Susan Harris-Gamard

Tell me that I can stay,

A little longer.

A life formed out of bits of thread and spilled blood

Is just a moment, a flash.

My creative clutter the only proof that I breathe.

Flesh plundered, compromised, sight unseen,

By one bad seed waiting,

For that slim circumstance

To strike and grow in a moment,

Interrupting a long-awaited dream.

We never know until we know,

We are not a given, even if we are forgiven.

I’d love to speak to that cell,

Lone invader of my own universe,

Travel the rivers and canyons of this divide,

Confront him and my swept-up fear.

To understand what he’s after,

Stealing my breath in order to live,

And perish with me.

I'd love to debrief that cell,

Make him squirm,

Will he have one noble reason?

Will I even comprehend why,

He means to use my body as his own,

Home Sweet Home,

For a little while?

I’d love to speak to that cell,

To tell him that I will stay,

A little longer.

It’s not up to him.

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