by Bill Yarrow
The doctor said it was walking pneumonia
but Cid knew better. When Marguerite died,
that was trauma. Run over by a bus. "Jesus!
I'm suffering from trauma! I can see and hear.
I can feel and walk around. Even talk. I think
maybe I'm in some kind of walking coma.
One where I can remember but not exactly
remember, communicate but not really
communicate, exist but not fully exist."
Then one day all the symptoms vanished.
He stopped using, got his CDL, drove to Reno,
met a dealer, married her, even agreed to raise her kid.
It's possible to forgive the past its trespasses,
stop seeing the future as a threat, reimagine
the present as a goal. Resurrection—it happens.
All rights reserved.
A version of this poem was published in Staxtes, a Greek Literary Review as "Resurrection Happens."
"Walking Coma" appears in THE VIG OF LOVE (Glass Lyre Press, 2016).