"...WHEN THE EVENING IS SET OUT AGAINST THE SKY..."
She stood
as if the world
were a mere
bit of scenery
backdrop
a prop in a play
designed for the sole purpose
of making her
look good.
Gorgeous is
the word.
She a universe
unto her self.
She spoke in italic.
Her voice changing font
from word to word.
She had a strange up
and down CaPiTaL accent
that was slightly dis-
concerting.
A simple "How do you do?"
metamorphosing into
hOw Do YoU dO
and without a trace
of punctuation
her voice a melody
upon the air
like music set free
invisibly.
She spoke excellent
French deliciously
which one
understood completely
even though one
had only schoolboy French.
jE m ApPellE mAdAmE mOrT eT
mAiNtEnAnT aLlOns y
She held out a hand
the sun itself
a mere jewel
upon her finger.
The world had run out
of itself.
I followed Madame Mort
into the nothingness
that had suddenly
opened up.
"Qui...merci!"
the last thing I
ever heard
my self say.
And this is the follow up poem to HOSPITAL VISIT written because many were surprised that Death like Luck was a Lady. I thought I better describe her more in detail but it was hard to capture an entity that is not seen until one HAS TO see her.
Having had a heart attack and survived I thought I could make a go at least of describing her as surviving a heart attack is like a dry run for the real thing. A practice run so to speak.