I thought I saw myself
Before I was born,
My minds-eye playing tricks on me.
Where’s the ultrasound?
Where’s the smoky-white fetus?
The sucking of a transparent thumb?
Insecurity develops much later,
The ghost saturates the image.
I scan it anyway.
But I know better.
The date’s all wrong.
1962, a year too early.
October, the month afterward.
So I’m turned around. Breech born.
Looking inward, instead of outward.
Rolling back time.
Call it a “do-over.”
President Kennedy completes his term.
The celebration of my arrival postponed by a day.
Still, I watch and wait.
The matching floor lamps serve as incubators
I refuse to race toward the gate.
Then I discover my flight’s been changed.
Call it “9-10.”
There’s a slight tug on my ankle,
And a calculated slap, with momentary blackouts,
Before Father smokes his Cuban cigar.
12 comments:
Wow.
Ivan
That's a great poem, Jim. Reminds me of one of my favorites by, you guessed it, old St. Ray. Anyway, this one is all your own -- really nostalgic and lovely!
"The ghost saturates the image."
I love it.
Also love the thought of a poem being inspired by an old photo.
I love it. The old double exposure. I haven't seen one of those in ages... an authentic one at that. Did it bring about the poem or just fit in with the ghost idea?
Nicely done.
Wow. I really like this. Some great images and altogether spellbinding.
Thank you for sharing it.
Fantastic!!! Thumb sucking, fetal position, behind the couch creative. Enjoyed it. Thanks for sharing. MW :)
Happy late birthday, Jim! You share the day with Ben Wallace? That's too cool!
Yes indeed, sir -- happy birthday to you!
I like the poem, as well ;)
Enjoyed the poem, and a happy belated birthday!
Wow is right! That was incredible!
What they all said.
Jim, Wow, I just saw this. That's me in the photo. Happy B-Day!! --Bro, Ron
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