Poems for Persons of Interest

Death and the Child The boy, confused, stood up and looked around. And where was Mama? Papa? All was dark. His small bare feet explored the bare smooth ground. A slim long line of light: a singing lark.   The fluttering of wings against a door. He jumped, afraid. Was it not morning yet? He slowly crept across the unseen floor And light embraced his fragile silhouette.   Once he stopped blinking, he was in a hall Papered the tawn and grey of bone and marrow. Featureless busts made blank memorial; But not a lark at all: a common sparrow,   Which, twittering at him, flew up to land Upon his shoulder, knowing him somehow, Then perched upon the fingers of his hand. All of a sudden, flower, branch, and bough   Pushed through the seams of floorboards and the plaster, Baseboards buckled, the wall burned green, and curled. “Now,” said the sparrow “let us meet the master.” He walked into the garden of the world.

  Ode to My Tumor I suppose I should bid you a proper farewell, take the high road although you have done nothing at all to warrant my courtesy. But since you are now biding your final days, trapped in the knowledge that your end is approaching I can be minimally magnanimous. How does it feel to be  on death row waiting, knowing that your end is inevitable  and quickly approaching? Do you sense the irony of all of this, you now in a place I was certain you had put me only weeks ago when they first found you? I will not miss you, no one would, but you strangely have given me a certain peace of mind, for there are no others like you lurking. I’m not sure what words are best for saying farewell to an uninvited tumor so I’ll leave  it at goodbye for you won’t fare well.