When Children Panic, meditation on the nature of death and how it is sometimes different. Options

[saore]

When Children Panic


Panic is not attached to the memory
of troublesome times, like surgical tape
sticks to the skin.

Analyst ask you to lay down and close
your eyes, but your thoughts drain
and you can’t remember

if anyone took the bandages off your mother
before she was put in the coffin. (Was she buried
with the catheter strapping?)

Grandmother would say: “Men have a long tube,
it’s for burying seeds.” I would ask why some fruit
never fell from the tree, they rotted on the branch,

as if resisting the imagination,
and open doors. “They need to be picked,”
was all she’d say.

[Eisa]

Hi Sergio

This is a very powerful poem and I like the messages/questions asked. You are a very strong writer and I'm not surprised you've won many pubications/nominations. Fantastic!

Steve - I like your poem very much and think you should post it seperately to get the comments it deserves.

Snow