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On that morning
birds will shatter stillness
chant their purty, purty, purty
languish in the heady scent of citrus blooms
On that morning
light will slip through gauzy curtains while
dust motes dance, abandoned to
the whisperings of April’s breath
On that morning
clouds will roll in like frothy waves
stretch to lick the azure sky
dissolve into fragments of remembrance
On that morning
alone in the first kiss of dawn
I will die
and live again.
Written for the third day’s challenge at NaPoWriMo: http://www.napowrimo.net/
And they gave us this one: Here’s a third prompt for those of you who like to get ahead of the curve. This one is adapted from Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones, a book my parents gave me when I was 14 or so and they noticed I was constantly scribbling things down. So here goes: Cesar Vallejo wrote a pretty famous poem that begins with him saying that he will die in Paris, in the rain, on a Thursday (different translations from the Spanish make it hard to quote precisely in English). So go ahead and write a poem predicting your own death — at night in Omaha at the Shell Station, in an underwater Mexican grotto after a dry spell. It’s less morbid than you think!
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
Victoria C. Slotto, Author 