"...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.