"I had many things to write, but I will not with ink and pen write unto thee..."
POETRYrepairs v07.05:050


LYN LIFSHIN's
SOME DAYS
v07.04
v07.05

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Everyday Some People Are Going Home
            to See Who is Dying			

my graduate school office mate
with her father and grandfather
alone in a big Victorian said,
"I never know who'll be living,
who'll be dead when I come 
home." For weeks, small girls
in pink pajamas are dying in
wrecked trail under a heavy
pervert's garlic stinking breath
or hog tied behind a rusty pick up.
Death shall have dominion Thomas
said but lately it's the main thing
on TV. The line between the living
and dead keeps moving. What 
does it mean when you start to
read the obits? Every morning the
ambulances streak by the park
I walk thru. Someone tells 
me "lost at war" is easier to live
with than certainty of death. When
Arthur Miller died, who didn't 
think of Marilyn going before him,
staying beautiful in our minds
as those who linger won't


©2007 www.poetryrepairs.com a.k.a. PoetryRepairShop (poetry and prose on this site is published under one time electronic publication rights; all rights revert to or are retained by the author/poet of the work/s published). site and page design ©2007 by JohnHorvathJr.
Everyday Some People Are Going Home to See Who is Dying The Other Night I Had This Absurd Dream			
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"Poetry endangers the established order in the soul."
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LYN LIFSHIN's
SOME DAYS
v07.04
v07.05

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The Other Night I Had This Absurd Dream			

terrorism was going on but it was
in only parts of the city. Some 
were gunned down but others
seemed to make it to somewhere
else. I was in spike heels, a filmy
dress, chartreuse I think, the
color Nicole Kidman wore several
years ago to the Oscars. Suddenly
a dark man puts his arm around 
me like a shawl and says its
the blacks and Jews they are after.
Ambulances across the pond and the
rain seemed like bullets. I wait for
guns from the street, something
terrifying as what catapulted Jessica 
from her seat in the Campus Theater
when The Thing played.  It comes
thru the blinds, pulls me from quilts
even the cat is hiding under. I can feel
what is just waiting for me slither
toward the bed, even the cat smells it,
leaps from her warm cove. It's too 
late to fall back to sleep. This terror will
wrap itself around me, weave itself in
to my hair so when I go to ballet it
it will keep me will keep me 
leaping and turning. I will be as not 
there as an old lover's voice on his
answering machine I called months ago
to just listen to or feel safe I could
not still want him, safer than those 
hours in the dark with the geese and
traffic not enough to make things
seem they were as they had been


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Everyday Some People Are Going Home to See Who is Dying The Other Night I Had This Absurd Dream Do I Have to Really Write About What Seems Most Scary? POETRYrepairsnavigation
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POETRYrepairs v07.05:050

LYN LIFSHIN's
SOME DAYS
v07.04
v07.05

PS : sponsor poetry
visit Poetry Sponsors





Do I Have to Really Write About What Seems Most Scary?			

Isn't it enough I've fought against
it, ballet classes every day,
often more than one. Do I have
to tell you I was stunned by the 
letter from a woman who says "now 
in the gym the men stop looking."  
Do I have to joke "pull the plug if
I can't do ballet," laugh when a 
friend says " I didn't sleep with him 
because I'd have to get undressed."
Do I have to remember my mother
saying she'd rather be dead than
lose her teeth? Have to know if I 
stay slim, size zero in ultra sexy
Victor's Secret jeans without 
more fat my face will look less
lovely. I think of that friend who
says she doesn't worry about what
poem she'll read but what she
will wear. Another says she wants
plastic surgery but doesn't think
it's right for someone in the arts, 
shouldn't she care about loftier things?
I think of another woman who will
only be photographed in certain
positions. Do I have to tell you what
I'm thinking about isn't death?


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LYN LIFSHIN's
SOME DAYS
v07.04
v07.05








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