Jay Young Gerard
Red Seeing Red
Response
Lisa Nielsen
Random Thoughts While Waiting for You to Die
Inspiration Piece
Fear was all the rage when you raged.
shrill crescendo punctuated by a fist
a declaration of my unworthiness
See. This is what doesn’t get said
on a deathbed.
When you ask how I am
I don’t answer.
Where were you then?
The under current is really a tidal wave
in my head, I grew
from concrete crevices, a slim escape from the streets’ hearty appetite
I stepped on all the cracks, racing home to see if it worked. Death plotted as a prayer. Not what Buddha would do. Or Jesus. Maybe Lizzie Borden if she had more self-control.
a fragment of my imagination trails off to an ugly remedy called memory
which makes forgiveness quite the escape artist.
But on the holiest of days I am left alone,
the lesson being
some men are an island
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One Comment
Lisa, powerful stuff, my friend! Your natural poetry carries the weight so easily. And the art, well, I can’t think of a better response.