sunflower 9
by Bobbi Lurie
he paused and groped
put the glass back safely in its place
i tried to release my hand from his
his grip grew tighter hands a replacement for eyes
no necessity to break it so gently
i mean i barely eat
he detected my uneasiness
the loss of self-image
nameless grave is this life
my end would be violent
no time for confession
he spoke as if reading aloud
born to be mistreated by beasts in human shapes
racial hatreds
remembrance of times past made me feel weak
the boundless arrogance of survivors…
movement so pathetically helpless
boundary of light and shadow is an inner façade
unreal insubstantial
earth peopled with mystical shapes
soothsayers and fortune-tellers
we drove past vast fields of wheat
all the way we could hear their screams and groans
conversation full of stupid phrases he had taken from newspapers
prisons filled with murdered men
there were deaths
on the pavement was the body of a woman
two children one weeping
carefully preserving all her prescriptions
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Author's Note
About Carol Novack, Mad Hatter’s Review, cancer, autism, the Holocaust, publishing work, not publishing work, how our lives intersect.
Thank you, Carol
This poem was published in Mad Hatter's review. Unbelievable! These poems were rejected so many times. But Carol Novack published them. I never met Carol. But we spoke on the phone. Once because she wanted me to record these poems and I, a stutterer, wasn't able to do it. Then we spoke a number of times, after she was diagnosed with cancer. She and I have been blessed with a mutual friend: Ann Bogle. I never had a chance to tell Carol that these poems are part of a never-to-be-published book (everyone rejects it) I wrote on my so-called deathbed, due to cancer, high on morphine, reading with my son who, due to autism, was unable, at the time, to comprehend a single word in the book, "Night" by Eli Weisel. I never slept. I read with my son and wrote these poems from my memory of the text. It was an expression of how I saw cancer and the Holocaust as being one thing: so many of my friends have died of cancer.
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Outstanding work, Bobbi. For me this poem is quite mystical, even spiritual -
"movement so pathetically helpless
boundary of light and shadow is an inner façade
unreal insubstantial"
Well-written piece. *
Thanks, Bobbi. As I told you yesterday, several submitters to Mad Hatters' in March mentioned your poems in the journal as their reason for trying us with their own poetry. It goes beyond career building, as you realize so beautifully, and it is a reason I turn to your writing, so I can see what you see, what in my eclipsed personal vision is not seeable except through yours.*
Powerful work here, Bobbi.
Desperate. Disturbing. Distressing. And quite satisfying as well.
Bravo!
thank you, bobbi, both for the poem and for the note. carol published three of my so-called "unpublishable" <a href="http://www.madhattersreview.com/issue12/whatnots_speh.shtml">flash pieces</a>, too. her taste is unusual as the best literature often is, as is her own work. i see mad hatters review as a kind of crystal ball of a literature of both past, present and future. your poem is wonderfully forceful.
Amazing story behind this, facing cancer and high on morphine. It shows how deep are the roots of your poetic inspiration.
"he paused and groped"
Well, Bobbi, this is just something. I am experiencing a loss I never knew I had: don't know Carol, don't know Mad Hatters, don't, it seems, know much...
Thanks for this. Fave.
I'm as moved by your author's note and by the above comments as I am by the stunning and moving poem. I echo Barry's sentiment above in feeling a loss I never had. Well said.
Thank you for your poem and your note. Rereading the two, almost like a plait, makes a very moving read, with the third strand of the plait the place this reader can reflect.
Bobbi, this chilled me, it's a very good poem, I do know some of this but hearing it over again as poetry makes it more devastating. Thank you for sharing it here with us.
LOVE
*
Bobbi, Very powerful piece. An essential testament. Thank you.
Strong and compelling piece, Bobbi. *
This is beautiful and I love it.
Just lovely, Bobbi, and I am always wowed by your work. I can see why Carol took this one for MHR. So many of my friends have died: Aids, cancer, you name it. Maybe this is why we are destined to be writers? It certainly shapes a person.
Fave.
carol published my work also. i survived cancer. so much needs to be said; one day i'll try to say more than thank you, to you, to ann who referred me to you, and to carol. free verse is no longer free, my words miscarry in horrible disarray, so grateful for rare gifts like yours.
There's so much depth to pain and truth and life in this poem, Bobbie. Hard to read, beautiful to read. Such strength in your writing... thank you for sharing this and the note about it. Always so good to see you and your work.