The Courthouse Records Say I Was Stillborn

THE COURTHOUSE RECORDS SAY
I WAS STILLBORN


Hand in hand we walked the Nileside pathways,
her fingernails were painted
the blue of faience.
Feeling the ardent touch of her hand,
I kept wondering where I was,
and why was I alone.

Swallows darted around me, but I do not
recognize their Egyptian color scheme.
Although alone, I looked at her.
Her eyes were the color of summer sea water.

I focused my attention on the back of her legs,
The curves on the back of her knees
gave me identity.
Made me regret my past my distaste for wieners
in a bun, for she in a Bikini
sold hot dogs on the Nile.

I had to eat, without appetite, one with mustard.
She would not take my money, it was as if
I did not exist. I held my money in my fist
and watched the Egyptian wind flip it up and down.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Plum Ruby Review