by Bill Yarrow
People who lose a leg to a battle
or disease often describe the feeling
of having a phantom appendage,
experiencing the sensation
of still feeling the absent limb.
When I lost you, I lost a piece
of myself. I haven't felt whole
since that day. It's not that I can't
go on; I can. It's not that I can't
think straight; I can. It's not that
I can't focus; I can. It's that the
future is now incomplete. It's
that with your radical vanishing,
the dignity of infinity is diminished.
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This poem appeared in A-Minor on September 26, 2011.
Thank you, Nicolette Wong.
This poem appears in Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX 2012).
Enjoyed is not the right word -phantom appendage - but it's a good read. Good form. Especially like the echoes in stanza 2.
The final two lines are great:
What, is Horatio there?
A piece of him. (I.i.25-26)*
Joani,
Yes, that's the epigraph from Hamlet. Couldn't format it here!
Absolutely... The last two lines make this.
Especially the last two lines. Powerful. ***
...reminded me of a Tucholsky poem about a soldier's knee that's severed from its owner and walks across the battlefield alone now, just the knee, not knowing what or where or how. A sad "radical vanishing" as you said.
Poetically spoken.*
You nailed it, brother. That's the feeling in a nutshell. Excellent.
Bill, this is a sad glimpse into a world often forgotten. The losses we cannot fathom unless they are our own. A brave, honest and forthright poem.
Fave.
Very powerful and beautifully written piece here Bill. Perfect form to convey such a deep and heartfelt meditation on loss. I relate!*
Powerful piece, Bill. *
It's that with your radical vanishing,
the dignity of infinity is diminished.
What a wonderful way to convey the sting of loss...
Raw, honest writing.*