| Let me move that chair away. You may
park yourself there – that’s fine –
only do not bump the aquarium.
Such queer, free-standing décor –
Italian origin, I think.
Now then, the tape is rolling, so tell me
about this ill event. Expound about
the mine lurking in your ‘backyard’
if I may loosely use the term.
Your life, how did it impact?
Your world, how did it – shall we say – rock?
Sir, feel free to speak your mind and heart
into my enclave of strict confidence.
You were policy briefed on the phone, yes?
It says here you were a civilian refugee.
Do you now wish you’d made your stand
in the waning motherland?
I’m speaking – and rhyming it would seem –
in your native tongue, so I know you
understand me well. The study is fully funded,
national grant and all.
So no cause to fret over compensation.
All in good time.
And we can start wherever you wish.
How does the recollection make you feel?
Sir, white knuckles are poor substitutes
for enlightening words.
Shall I call a masseuse before
you break out in stigmata?
That was a joke.
I understand it was your daughter
who actually tripped the device,
scuffling her feet in those hulking
buskins as she often did – I’m sure.
A frightful scene I can well imagine,
but think of the dramatic resonance.
I take it she held the hand that is no more,
strode by the knee that bore her bouncing bottom
away to Never-Never Land one last time?
Ahh, the aquarium! How I warned you.
And now you leave me alone
with all these flapping fish,
flapping
like so many disembodied tongues.
So much to say in those last gasping moments
and no one to listen…save me.
Oh, here is my favorite tropical beauty.
Did you escape those wicked wheels?
You, I must aid. Ginger brewed the most
unbearably weak pot of coffee this morning,
and now it is cold.
You can swim there until housekeeping arrives.
©2003 Carl Pecinovsky
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Words