Phenomenal Panorama

Driving to the seaside it was as if the gods had taken a phenomenal scythe and sliced the horizon lower, all the tress and buildings and possible hills universally shorn so those of us looking skywards would see them and their work more clearly in the celestial wrap-around of December clouds.

Or it could be the new car’s surprising expanse of surrounding glass and panoramic exposures.

Advertisements

Found at LossLit

losslit

i.m. Jim

I am pleased to have my poem Dementia’s Mantra here in the latest edition of LossLit.

This journal has an aim to ‘explore the various influences of loss in literature’ and my found prose poem was written recently in response to visiting my father-in-law at the residential home where he was being cared for because of dementia [not complete, with drifting in and out of confusion and clarity] and other physical vulnerabilities. The poem’s mantra is his.

Jim sadly passed soon after. He was 91 and had a wonderful life, happily married for 66 years. In his many moments of clarity he was most appreciative of being visited while at the same time confused about where he was and why.

 

Comfort

he borders
on tending
where someone
moves to mothers
down voluptuous walked sunways

the flowers like babies
shine by the street
in polished
grass

he thinks chrome

damp shine of green patch
on time for people summers
when children laughed heat
and
played on porches
in hollered doors
of a new
friendly closeness

each bike’s greetings with
revolving knees graceful
in ease

he’d Kool-Aid tomorrow
knelt from a world
surely
in a box
of comfort