Revision
There is a filmstrip running in my mind
like on one of those clackety-clack projectors
from science class. Only instead of answering a question
never asked about how plants eat sunlight
or the size of a dolphin’s brain, all that remains
are moments captured by an omniscient lens.
I can hear the laughter of my friend who died alone
as we all die, as I will someday die as I am dying now.
I’m not sure what I’m saying to make her laugh.
My words aren’t captioned.
There are other faces burned from the film blurred
by drownings, other cancer. They say I survived
when my mother died, though daily I am diminished
like a faded newspaper on the park bench
where I will someday sit
when the reel is finally empty
and my lips sound out words
I can no longer read.
~~
Edit 1 (Leanne): I made some adjustments some you suggested, also looked at eliminated more "I" language. Kole I saw your comments after I finished. I'll give them a look. Thank you both.
Original
There is a filmstrip running in my mind
like on one of those clackety-clack projectors
I used to watch in science class. Only
instead of answering a question
that I never asked about how plants eat sunlight
or the size of dolphins’ brains. I am left
with images of myself shot from an omniscient perspective.
I can hear the laughter of my friend who died alone
as we all die, as I will someday die as I am dying now.
I’m not sure what I’m saying to make her laugh.
My words aren’t captioned. I’m not that person anymore.
There are other faces burned from the film blurred
by drownings, other cancer. Does it matter? They say I survived
when my mother died. I suppose I did. Though daily I am diminished
like a faded newspaper on a park bench
on which I will someday sit
when the reel is finally empty
and my lips sound out words
I can no longer read.
~~
*Another NaPM poem I wanted to workshop.
There is a filmstrip running in my mind
like on one of those clackety-clack projectors
from science class. Only instead of answering a question
never asked about how plants eat sunlight
or the size of a dolphin’s brain, all that remains
are moments captured by an omniscient lens.
I can hear the laughter of my friend who died alone
as we all die, as I will someday die as I am dying now.
I’m not sure what I’m saying to make her laugh.
My words aren’t captioned.
There are other faces burned from the film blurred
by drownings, other cancer. They say I survived
when my mother died, though daily I am diminished
like a faded newspaper on the park bench
where I will someday sit
when the reel is finally empty
and my lips sound out words
I can no longer read.
~~
Edit 1 (Leanne): I made some adjustments some you suggested, also looked at eliminated more "I" language. Kole I saw your comments after I finished. I'll give them a look. Thank you both.
Original
There is a filmstrip running in my mind
like on one of those clackety-clack projectors
I used to watch in science class. Only
instead of answering a question
that I never asked about how plants eat sunlight
or the size of dolphins’ brains. I am left
with images of myself shot from an omniscient perspective.
I can hear the laughter of my friend who died alone
as we all die, as I will someday die as I am dying now.
I’m not sure what I’m saying to make her laugh.
My words aren’t captioned. I’m not that person anymore.
There are other faces burned from the film blurred
by drownings, other cancer. Does it matter? They say I survived
when my mother died. I suppose I did. Though daily I am diminished
like a faded newspaper on a park bench
on which I will someday sit
when the reel is finally empty
and my lips sound out words
I can no longer read.
~~
*Another NaPM poem I wanted to workshop.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson