reading between the lives and writing between the lines, XXXIII
my friend stares
at her son's last drawing:
on a bald head
Zoloft, Prozac, Lithium ...
and a cracked heart
Added:
the triage line
snakes around hallway corners
a grey-haired nurse
mumbles ... then collapses
in a sobbing heap
Added:
All the Words in Battledress
some hundred miles
from his home stuffed with books
in Kherson
my friend writes poetry by screams
-- the last stage of lyricism
more war poems
sent by the Ukrainian poet ...
in smoky twilight
the head of I being cut off
the roof of M falling through
Note: L5 of the first tanka alludes to the following remark:
Miles away from poetry, we still participate in it by that sudden need to scream—the last stage of lyricism.
-- Romanian philosopher and essayist Emil Cioran, whose work has been known for its pervasive philosophical pessimism, style, and aphorisms
And CBC News, Nov.26: Hundreds flee Ukraine's Kherson to escape 'real hell' of Russian shelling: Kilometre-long line of vehicles on Kherson's outskirts as civilians leave recaptured city
The exodus from Kherson came as Ukraine solemnly remembered a Stalin-era famine and sought to ensure that Russia's war in Ukraine doesn't deprive others worldwide of its vital food exports.
