a carpet salesman late

after being lost on the interstate,

was not the best person

to be looking over my still body

as if he could flay the skin

from my meat and wear it

for a ritual of life,

the only corn was creamed

in a can somewhere in a cupboard

high up,

funny as i lay there

i would think of this

instead of some higher philosophical

thought,

book of swatches at my side

fumbling over cell phone

dialing nine one one,

why was i so aware

then again why i was so dead

and when did the moon appear,

six thirty the meeting was to be

damn carpet salesman,

i had died waiting

how stupid,

come on i would wake up

and realize i had dozed in the chair

the one my cat rebel would steal,

now i thought of the letters

in the draw,

but these thoughts

where slipping my body was vacant

was the brain going now

switching off to a dim point

as tv sets used to,

shit i hated being this aware

and i love the carpet salesman

for trying,

but my ex wife would know

those letters

of feelings i had

and would mourn me more than i deserve

the tunnel exists as does the echoes

this is it i am on the express train

so hot it was getting hotter

is hell getting ready to greet me,

closing internal lids of thought

pain wracked limbs,

cracking sound

last human thought as i left my egg

as a four legged ancient

with long snout and tail

slipping into the swamp

a new persona

a life begun anew

 

poetry , poem

 

 

 

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Comments
  1. ManicDdaily says:

    This is such a vivid, quirky, cool poem. There’s a kind of helpless vulgarity about the carpet salesman that is yet so poignant and kind and the letters in the draw (or drawer?) I thought of it as possibly some sort of raffle but wasn’t sure if there wasn’t a typo there when the x-wife came up–it is a terribly human poem even up to the end, which may or may not be the next phase. Much enjoyed. k.

  2. howanxious says:

    A very interesting read… vivid and as if one is viewing it on the screen. Very well-written.

  3. Ok this is brilliant. I can’t imagine that in our final gasps we go all philosophical. It’s got to be the small stuff, the stuff that becomes important because that’s all we can focus on. I don’t know – obviously I’ve not died yet… Very good.

  4. nico says:

    “Mourn me more than I deserve”–a lot of moving lines in this piece, this is one of the most unsettling. Great writing!

  5. Wow, Chris. Loved the first person account. Reminded me a bit of “The Lovely Bones,” a novel written in the first person point of view of a murdered child. You have the seed of a novel here. Or at least a heck of a good short story.

    • clawfish says:

      Not read The Lovely Bones yet and thanks Victoria for the Wow thanks for the novel seed comment , i have a lot of them and finding time is difficult poetry is more immediate and can be complex so takes some seeds further, hope all is well

  6. Laurie Kolp says:

    Quite an expected ending… demands a sequel!

  7. Mary says:

    Whew, this is so very vivid…with details that made the experience real!

  8. brian miller says:

    the ex mourning you more than you deserved was pretty powerful…as were your thoughts of the carpet salesman after that vivid opening of how he was looking at you…

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