The Little Death
little death
recently died now
the big one looms
you’re a soft target
to what comes:
the heart jumping
like jack
the tongue rolled
up like a sleeping
bag, touch under
the brush
of sandpaper
your face oblivion
in the morning sun
& in the no moon
of the new moon
your garden’s
in menopause.
even the young
are dying old
what will it be
not to be here but
only a wave in the sky
or a particle
thrown into the ocean
at high tide
13 thoughts on "The Little Death"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
love this Jim!
esp
in the morning sun
& in the no moon
of the new moon
your garden’s
in menopause.
even the young
are dying old
BAM! what a feeling and image!
lots of good lines, tongue rolled up like a sleeping bag, even the young are dying old, the no moon of a new moon
I had to laugh at “the tongue rolled / up like a sleeping / bag”
the little death, yea, but it’s surprising how it can once in a while rise from the grave
love love love that last stanza. this poem speaks to my heart. wonderful.
We’re thinking along parallel lines today, Jim. Fine poem.
I love this. I notice some of us, probably all over 60, are writing poems that suggest death or address it directly. But rather than being morbid they are accepting and observant. You have faced death with the blinders off. There’s almost always a dash of love and humor in your poems.
So much to admire here: “& in the no moon/of the new moon” and “even the young/are dying old” had me gasping breath
My favorite lines–
the tongue rolled
up like a sleeping
bag–such a fresh comparison!
your face oblivion
in the morning sun
& in the no moon
of the new moon
your garden’s
in menopause.
The structure serves the poem well with its short lines, & I like the division of the poem into two stanzas–that last one in particular has a lot of punch.
I really felt this poem.
Yes ! To know.
The short sentences
are really effective.
A whole bunch of stuff good in this.
I liked the mystery in this, the shoulder-shrugging uncertainty masquerading as certainty:
even the young
are dying old
the tongue rolled/up like a sleeping/bag
the no moon/of the new moon
love these phrases!