In the Hospice Chamber
When we slip into Eternity
we do so alone.
The cosmos does not allow
anyone else to slither through
the same portal, simultaneously.
Three other persons
were stationed in the room
when you took leave of us.
Yet you, most social of beings,
existed there, solitary,
a raindrop
sliding down
a stem
to rest
in earth.
Survivors of an Atrocity
When I think of their pain
I imagine a mist,
the drifting ammonia fumes of Venus’s surface,
an atmosphere unable to settle,
unable to rise.
A purple-putrid fog
dragging itself across shadowed terrains.
The vapor meanders…gains force,
howls--a gale
no one will ever be able to hear.
Many Days
I am living--
the act of breathing, miraculous.
I hear a dog’s bark
echo across back yards.
A siren yells, excited.
Dollar-thin blades of light
seep through vertical blinds.
My tush is cushioned by a mattress.
My tongue tastes good
as it delights my cheeks, my ridged teeth.
A breeze of cooked omelettes
musics the air like harp notes.
I’m aware of all this
and have an appetite for more
as I wonder
when the abundance will end
and will I feel sated.
Bionote
Austin Alexis is the author of Privacy Issues (Lotus Press/Wayne State University Press), which received the 2014 Madgett Poetry Award for a first full-length collection. His work has appeared in Paterson Literary Review, The Ledge, The Journal, Barrow Street, The Pedestal Magazine and other journals. He received residency fellowships from the Vermont Studio Center and the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation of New Mexico.
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