cathy_edgett

peacefully blank -

I realize this poem by Chase Twitchell captures a bit of what my head is wanting right now - so much space there is nothing there.  Though she titles this Death's Portrait, perhaps, it is a place of peace.  We know the fish are there, somewhere in the ocean.  Thoughts are in my mind, too, and, for a moment, I request a blank space.



Death's Portrait  

by Chase Twitchell





I just caught myself in the mirror







with a look like one of my father’s,







a forward-leaning absorption,







greedy, thinking of itself.







I saw him animated in me,







jaw set with glee and slyness,







his future ghost dropping in







to remind me he’ll always







be with me, even when I no longer







know where or who I am.







I rented a boat and went







fishing in the Caribbean.







The guy who took me was







proud of his sonar,







acres of ocean on a little screen.







A black shape might be a big fish,







might be a school of smalls.







We rode around all morning







watching the screen.







There was nothing there.



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