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Sunday, August 16, 2015

Midnight Mourning


Midnight  Mourning 

I wander the mortuary of my mind this midnight
the motor of my mind a whir - thoughts popping
from hidden chambers as magician’s rabbits to die
immediately - nothing can live in this airless dark  -
I wander the mortuary of my mind this midnight -
memories joining into Golems-marching mutants
clomping down the corridors of raw recollection
To say you are missed – is to compare a pin-light
to the convocation of all flung stars in the galaxy –
I wander the mortuary of my mind this midnight
as the fleshed reminder of what was you lay cold
in an actual mortuary –I know. I watched the gurney 
slide into the mouth – myself – metal on metal - 
watched as the van with a phone numbered logo
 made a U-turn and pulled down our driveway 
our driveway where you came home to me – always. 
Yet, even this thought that I prod more or less 
like a rotten tooth falls dead as a soaked autumn leaf – 
thoughts piling into moldering heaps of sodden stench.
I wander the mortuary of my mind this midnight –
Methinks that this is but the first night of such walks.
I have now joined the matriarchs – alone and strong
for you – Shoulders straight and eyes and mind clear
during the light – but at night – at midnight my darling
I shall wander the mortuary of my mind – searching for
my stolen soul and wake to the sound of our mariachi 
men strumming softly over a vanished horizon 





2 comments:

  1. Grief is of course a measure of love and much, much more. It the dawning of the inevitability
    of our lives and that however much time we have it is never enough. (I am glad you wrote this second one.)

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  2. Too many minds, I think, are mortuaries. What can we do to clear out the necropolis and make way for the living? Thanks so much, Pearl, for participating twice in this week's Whirligig. What a treat to have you return!

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