Infinite Monkey

write to know.

Who’s to Say What’s Right

leave a comment »

Oh how I loved you
My split aparts
My twins

One of earth and soil – my blood
One of heart and night’s bright sky
“I think it’s dirty, rotten”
How they’ve gotten in between

It’s not another’s business
How I
choose to grieve
That’s suffocation
(“even though you aren’t breathing”)

To put you in the ground, my loves
“. . .that’s goodbye, goodbye”
I couldn’t bear to say it

(“. . .that’s goodbye, goodbye”)

Afraid of tight, closed spaces
Just the same she and I
We favored things alike, we did
Even brothers, took their name

And she knew my other
Sat in silence
Garaged and handsome still
As we curled into one another
to warm her bones from cancer’s aching, chill
“I’m real glad you’re here, she said”

(Not goodbye, never goodbye)

for this some people
call me ghoul
“some people have a terrible feeling”
“Well, I felt differently ‘bout death”
And couldn’t bear to say it

(“. . .that’s goodbye, goodbye”)

“I put her glasses on her”
. . .made all the difference in the world”
“I’d fix her up”
“. . .fix her face – up all the time”

(No goodbyes, not goodbye)

And douse her with the scent she loved
Of love’s sweet, sweet perfume
For my sister was my mirrored soul
And I know what she’d want
To breathe and be
Not locked beneath
The ground to stay

(no goodbye, that’s goodbye)

I’d go in
I’d talk
that I’m the only one
the one for which –

death has not yet

(“. . .where’s goodbye? My last goodbye?”)

“Is this the grand finale?”
I’d think
at night, I’d gaze at stars
and deer in fields
I’d think,
“There must be someone created this
We’re not mushrooms come aground”
“. . .when you put them in the (ground),

(“. . .that’s goodbye, goodbye”)

In this way,
I could smooth her hair
Wipe the worry from her brow
look at her and talk to her

(But never say goodbye, what’s goodbye?)

“I don’t always go to church, my friends
still I want to believe”

(There’s no goodbye)

But now my hands are forced
They say
We’ve got to say


But who are they to say
How and when
The times good
gone bye?

“Well, I felt differently about death”
For me
There’s no goodbye

Vanessa Nix Anthony
July 22, 2010

Jean Stevens with a photo of her and her husband before World War II

This poem was inspired by an interview with 91 year-old Jean Stevens, regarding the exhumation of her late husband and twin sister, whom police found her living with in her home.



Written by Rainee Squatch

August 3, 2010 at 6:14 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: