The Japanese lilac that bloomed for your death
blooms again.
You've still never seen it.
Nor I, your body.
Out in the garden again I wonder
If it is working its way up through
the earth
the way stones do,
smoothed and mumbled
lifted somehow
in strange currents.
As a body on the second day
begins to float, so death
in its second year
may surface. If so, it may be
a strange relief. The other day in a dream
I lifted the phone
to hear you screaming. At my voice:
"Oh Erin I heard you were dead."
"You're dreaming," I said, dreaming,
and woke. And then,
as every day,
here comes the news.
I woke this week hearing myself say, "Why haven't you called, it's been so long since I've heard from you!"
I woke this week hearing myself say, "Why haven't you called, it's been so long since I've heard from you!"
Wow, that's eerie on so many levels. I've written on most of those themes at one time or another, but I've never put it together like that.
Erin, marverlous. It's hard to imagine that much time has past. We don't forget, not ever, even though the news keeps on coming. Peace to you.
Just thought I'd let you know how much I appreciated this, both in terms of craft and of sentiment...
hello Erin my name is also Erin and i bumped into your website by typing Erin into the search engin on blogspot.com>
i found it somewhat ammusing that we are both poets and boht called Erin. it's not even funny o_O
i like your poetry it had a definate edgyness to it. well done :)
it would be nice if you checked out my work:
http://werin-poerty.blogspot.com/
(yes poetry is spelt wrong my accident :P)
thankyou. Erin