KAREN CORCORAN DABKOWSKI
........The Poetry Of.
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Karen Corcoran Dabkowski
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Changing Skins
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I whistled
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in answer
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to a bird so high in a tree, he was a
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speck of sound. My pure note
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met his sweet and he was
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answering.
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We carried on like that
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a good ten minutes
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till I felt feathers
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grow on cheeks, along my arms
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so rain crow soft and silken, I was
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answering him in ways beyond the tweet
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pu-weet of chirp. I warped as bones, shoes
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lighter grew
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and on that wick of joy
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I flew
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not far, but up.
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Compensating Half
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I feel like a ship
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that's listing to one side. Sleep
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so claimed the left brain,
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right one's limping,
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doing the work of
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both hemispheres. Seeing words as
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tools, as flatware, forking up these lines
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-the whimsy gone, yet doing
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a creditable
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job.
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The left brain
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is still galloping
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in gauzy mists of dream,
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will not get up, so poetry's
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invaded
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the right; this will be a day of
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swimming numbers, swimming rainbow fish.
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Not adding up, but pretty
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in cerebrospinal wet.
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The algorithmic succumbing to a
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dance of seven veils. Erato's
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wearing glasses and her sensible
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shoes, but up on balls of feet,
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ready
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to shoot the moon.
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Hollywood, Florida
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Couple leap to their death
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from 17th
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floor
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condo. That's what the
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headline said. It took my hand
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and forced me to look
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where it was------long,
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sad.
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My heart fell in two
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pieces
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like a cloven fruit. I saw them
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aging, childless- Morris
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more
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and more so
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out of breath, in pain and
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choking on air that would not come.
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His wife, Estelle,
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watched him go
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out the window
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after asking the maintenance man
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to open it up- he had to
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breathe
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he wanted
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screens
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and then the sound was her own scream
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before the thud. She knew that he
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would do it
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all along. It wasn't fair. He hit
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before she made it to the windowframe, her hips
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at 80
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weren't
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what they were
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when they first married, 42
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years ago. Estelle
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fell
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second
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wanting nothing more than one
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more
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touch-
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I
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love
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thee
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to
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the
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depth
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and
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breadth
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and
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height
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when
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feeling
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out
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of
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sight
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and
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if
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God
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choose
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Morris
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if
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Hewont
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Iwill.
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