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2009 September 25
by Anne Heraghty


I watched a film tonight

about a suicide note

and thought of you, mother-

a husband’s ink-stained hands,

a hole shot through two souls.

It said, “Listen to your heart,

I will speak to you there,”

and I remember you yesterday-

making coffee with one steady hand

as the other clutched your chest,

the faint smell of smoke

wafting from the toaster.

At the time, I thought you were

simply trying to get hold

of your dangling bifocals.

One Response leave one →
  1. Joseph Bastow permalink*
    September 28, 2009

    These are lines that drive the reader well beyond incident, tragedy, sorrow: they strike, retreat, then strike again. What we’re left with is looking through lenses of “corrected” perspective – nothing 20/20 could ever accomplish but through this wonderful poet’s meticulous eye. The reader, here too, gropes for the heart. Brilliant!

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