Thief of Syllables

The ends                                 of words
lost,              from a beginning

syllable                      almost
anything                                             follows
star            glaze

Speculate                                morphine
I was never                             arthritic
couldn’t drawer

what I wanted                                    I wanted
to be an archetype                   like
my mother                              she decided me

of that
I pat her hand,
all framework.




Click here to read Jonathan B. Aibel on the origin of the poem.

Image: photo by Hunt Han on Unsplash, licensed under CC 2.0.

Jonathan B. Aibel:This was a difficult piece, inspired by visiting my mother in her last weeks, her protocols done, taking morphine. Most of the day she was herself, but when she got tired, she became more child-like. As I revised, I worked to make the language more and more spare and disjoint, to capture how time and meaning drifted in those afternoons.

Jonathan B. Aibel
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