UNTITLED
disease is by choice
my mother had jungle
rot
and my father
gangrene
I went mad
believing all
my red corpuscles
were explosive devices
commanded by Mao
and one false step
would blow my mind
so I moved
with crazy
grace
the way
the cripple
and the child
dance
every
movement
a prayer
there were cures
my mother washed
her hands every
two hours for a
year
and they cut
off
my father's toe
in mid-dance
I was locked
in a room
with no handle
on the door
you may ask
how I came
to be here
it wasn't easy
Poem © 1994 by Virginia Davis
Just a quick update: A really cool tribute program for Virginia Davis (on KBOO radio's Talking Earth) aired on 10/20/14. Patrick Bocarde was the host, and Portland poets Christine and Doug Spangle shared their memories of Virginia (plus an awesome poem or two). Oh, and my voice was heard (telephone). Night to remember...
ReplyDeleteWill be remembering you and your poems today. You are still very much missed...
ReplyDeleteAn incredible soul. I will always remember our time together in the late '80s. On the stage of Satyricon or in the front rooms of mine or Monica Nelson's homes. Poetry was our collective voice. You ARE missed, dear one. You are someone who gives me strength in my own decline by disabilities. I hope you have found a steadiness that was unavailable when alive.
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