Kaleidoscope – by JOANNE SPENCER

Kaleidoscope

 

The ground yawned and swallowed him whole.

The glossy white casket of my husband consumed

by the earth. I am alone.

 

My eardrums rupture,

my bones melt,

my lungs seize

my pulse stops.

I am a corpse on the grass,

among a landscape of stones

and yet I can…

 

See how the hues of azure, pewter and plum waltz across the sky.

A kaleidoscope of radiance brushing across a twilight canvas

as if painted by Cézanne himself

and I can…

 

See how life hovers, a portrait of brilliant, vibrant assurance.

Illuminating wisps of translucent, billowing clouds

rising to empyrean.

I am not alone.

 

My bloods warms,

my breath returns,

my bones solidify,

my ears hum.

He is here,

on the grass,

among a landscape of stones.

***
picture for sick lit

Joanne Spencer, who once had her life saved by a naked man, has had work published in Fresh! Magazine, Woman’s World  and will soon have a poem published in Mother’s Always Write. She is a published author of one novel, The Letter Keeper, and is currently working as a contributing journalist for her local publication, The Creekline,  as well as writing reviews for The Review Review. She resides in Northwest Florida where she pretends to cook, clean and do laundry all while secretly writing on a notepad she keeps in her back pocket or her bra, depending on her outfit that day.

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