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Alice, Go

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 7:25 am
by dks
I promised myself I wouldn't write anything else until I finished this ...it is a dedication to someone so very dear to me whom I lost about a month ago.

Alice, Go

Alice walks slowly to the bread box.
The rye is still soft,
She surveys the Lazy Susan—
Tidied, on the pintuck table linen.

Unaware, her husband waits
In large blue flannel,
His sugar starved hands
Grip cherry water ice.

Neighbors file by.
Their little ones’ little ones
Love the same oven pretzels
Alice’s boys ate;
They always make a mess—
The mustard jar is getting low,
Salt crystals dot the kitchen floor.

They grow so fast, Alice.
Faster than before, you know.
You look tired even through
The frosted basement window.

Let them remember incandescent,
Ebon eyes, a voice chiming like a cathedral knell—
Grace notes above a humming seraph’s crescendo.

I won’t tell, Alice.
Fly home—
Fly hushed and low.
The time had long passed
For you to go.

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 1:52 pm
by Saturn
A fitting tribute I'm sure wherever she is she would appreciate your words.

Stark in its simplicity and poignancy :(

Wonderful stuff as ever Denise.

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 4:39 pm
by dks
Saturn wrote:A fitting tribute I'm sure wherever she is she would appreciate your words.

Stark in its simplicity and poignancy :(

Wonderful stuff as ever Denise.


Thanks, Stephen. It somehow doesn't do her memory anything near justice...

PostPosted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 10:51 pm
by Saturn
As potent as words, and poetry itself can be to people, nothing hits home with the awful majesty of death.

Ted Hughes once said poetry should be like a bomb going off, or an explosion.

Death, tragedy, and loss have a comparable effect on the human heart.