A Loss, and an Awakening From a Dogmatic Slumber

Painting by Cate Culver


A LOSS, AND AN AWAKENING FROM A DOGMATIC SLUMBER

He had his hated address and a map
of the hated block on which he lived
tattooed on his bicep,
before the arm
was amputated.
He had pricked his elbow
on a rose bush, neglected,
then gangrene.
His attention was now occupied by
blackbirds flying to nests in pond reeds,
how cedar bark feels when touched
after a rainfall, the lightning that came
from the eyes of green frogs.
Life was better now, since the pain
had changed his perception.
Readings in ontology had not changed him,
the accident in the rose garden had.
The rose thorn like a twang of a guitar
accidentally heard can change an attitude.
His address and the street on which he lived
gone, the same address was a new address.
The same street was a new street.
He caressed the scents of the jasmine
that were flying by his empty sleeve
flapping in the wind.



Duane Locke

Posted over on 4*9*1