Four noons, one dawn

He used to wake up
at noon holding his own
hand until he forgot
nothing will hold it for him
ever so he held it hard
until it broke a little
& fell, some of it,
onto where the rest of him fell.
First no where he woke
quiet as quiet in there
then the grip, the grip
never forgetting him,
all calcium to his mirror,
it too on the floor in pieces.
He asked it back then
for anything, for anything
but that slow drawl to home
& laid with the mirror
until he saw his place
in the world grow minute
by minute smaller & he wept
like he lost something
young on his knee to disease,
something early, bearded
as the owl who falls at noon
like him the smaller for it.
The wall around his place
shown his head in it all
indented & somewhat like ocher
on the pastel overlay once
witness to his growing up,
now witness to his running
forehead. Then he woke up
at dawn today & picked his arm
up & the mirror cleaning
his place until it shown
what he was to others
& what he will be laughing
all the while, bright now,
on his way to the doors outside.

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~ by Jeremy on June 25, 2010.

One Response to “Four noons, one dawn”

  1. I love this. You take on a banal subject and renew it utterly. The ‘hooks’ are what kept me reading, such as:

    “& laid with the mirror
    until he saw his place
    in the world grow minute
    by minute smaller ”

    “The wall around his place
    shown his head in it all
    indented & somewhat like ocher
    on the pastel overlay”

    “Then he woke up
    at dawn today & picked his arm
    up & the mirror cleaning
    his place until it shown
    what he was to others
    & what he will be laughing
    all the while, bright now,
    on his way to the doors outside.”

    all being unventured twists. Meaning and form cohere; the flow is almost hermetic, yet sustains the concept, while metaphor is most subtle.

    Thank you for sharing.

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