Dallas, Texas: The First Garage
"Curtain Call"
The plane
screeches at wind;
singing props unwind sound;
wing flaps shudder, the tail expels
cargo.
Ladies
suited in blues
wait at the door, holding
caps, catching kisses blown toward
the passengers ushered
down the metal
staircase.
I see
through grated stairs
puzzled ground; gingerly
down steps, my child-full mother
trips--
Now in
curtained corner
spare, white, mother there, laid
on metal table, tended by
white dresses dressing scrapes,
knee, elbow, chin
in gauze.
I gaze...
I hold my breath,
I touch, with finger tips
I tap the top where cotton cloth
hangs down.
This piece poignantly relates a child's early trauma and discovery of how quickly strange and terrible things can happen even to the people we love and depend upon for our sense of safety in the world. Tender, harrowing, and full of wide-eyed wonder this.
ReplyDeleteOn the technical side, the power of form used to convey the narrative serves as a kind of vehicle (not unlike the plane) enveloping the tale to land it safely and make its retelling possible.
Brian,
ReplyDeleteWhat can I say, but thank you. :)
~Kay