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No More Space for the Pain |
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by Richard L. Provencher
Thunder disturbed a mirage of peace; lightning painting
the sky, and his head felt severed from an explosion—
He was like an irregular lump on the hospital mattress
similar to the way he and his brother fooled
mom with a couple of pillows modeling
two young boys and toys packed under bed blankets
O so long ago—
mom laughed at that and the time she found
her boys climbing trees just to watch the sunrise.
It grew into a passion
the outdoors
where a canoe pursued hidden creeks leading
somewhere
and if you were really quiet a moose with
its gangly ways stood proudly—
a majestic
king of the bay
content with his domain.
The IV identified a hospital look
nurse coming in often to check his credits
BP okay, drip doing fine
and no discomfort for the time being—
body parts numb from the stroke.
Closing his eyes recaptures
an imaginary view—
loon sounds continuing
their trill climbing a staircase
of notes heralding evening’s lullaby frogs burping nearby bats flying in random ecstasy coyote yipping ricocheting from hills nearby. Getting hard to focus on those days eyes desperate for rest. He smells the pine hears the rustle of trembling aspen a current’s churlish flow and a finale of woodsy serenade calling him to join the scent of forever ways. |