Poetry has appeared in "Shemom," "Seeker Magazine,"
the "Quarterly Journal of Ideology," "Writer’s
Hood," "Mi Poesias," and "Ella: Mi Po
Women’s Beat." Another will be appearing in a forthcoming
issues of "The Unrorean."
After graduating from Carnegie Mellon with a degree in writing,
she worked for several years
as a technical writer in Manhattan. She now lives with her
husband and two sons in Pennsylvania.
|
|
Precious
|
In my sleep you monster the sky
with circles of memory,
slip dignity from my skin
while I clutch and grab
at the possibility
of something precious.
I barely get to choose to dream
before you vanish,
a flinch in the night,
and I wake.
Morning drags me into day where
our house sits in its ordinary place.
I mourn in doorways,
below windows, tangle my fingers
in curtains and coats and hooks
in the closet.
I clutch things tightly
but still they escape
wafting memories as they go—
such sweet scents, such sad leftovers
not unlike the roast in the fridge.
I eat.
I bathe.
I cry but no water drunk or dried
distracts me from the past.
Perhaps this time next year
the memorials will be less.
I tire of lit candles weeping wax.
I tire of neighbors who talk as if they know.
Your newborn son cries and sleeps
and eats like any infant—
like something precious.
I keep your photo in his room.
He’ll grow up with that
even as the sky falls around me
into circles of dust
when I lie down to sleep.
Copyright © 2004 Christine Klocek-Lim |