As I Turned, a poem


        As I turned to hold you
        Under a black sun
        Whose gloom blanketed us
        With the weight of death
      
        I still heard your sweet breath
        Still smelled your hair and
        Sucked into me your scent
        To keep us as one
      
        I still felt your side’s sway
        The wisps of hair which
        I pressed to one last time
        One last memory
      
        As I turned to hold you
        You were not yet gone
        But you had no way to say
        You still felt my warmth

First published in in EpiphanyMag, Poetry No. 17

Advertisements

About brucejberger

Bruce J. Berger has published his short fiction in a variety of print and on-line literary journals, including Prole, Jersey Devil Press Anthology, The Awakenings Review, Raphael's Village, Eastown Fiction, Black Magnolias Literary Journal, and others. He also publishes shorts stories for Amazon's Kindle. He is pursuing his MFA in Creative Writing at American University beginning in August 2015.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to As I Turned, a poem

  1. Dear Bruce, I particularly like the way the last lines contradict themselves. The protagonist states that the dying one has no way of conveying sensibility of the speaker’s warmth, but the tender precision of the words, especially the speaker’s knowledge that “you were not yet gone,” conveys the belief that the dying one is indeed expressing awareness and thanksgiving for the speaker’s warmth.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s