New York Pitch Conference Reviews, Algonkian Writer Conferences, and Poetry Forums

It is no small thing
to watch your whole life
flash before my eyes,
the names of your unborn
kiss my fingertips.

I see you reading the Rig Veda
In original Sanskrit, hear the
symphony you composed
without ever hearing.

Your bicycle gathers rust in the yard
like a hen gently gathers her chicks.
I dare not move it as I dared
not remove the hospital bracelet
with your name misspelled.

Wow, fabulous poem... the ending delivers a great punch but the entire piece works beautifully. Kudos!

I echo the coments

Wonderful poem, Ken, terrific last stanza.

I agree you could lose 'original'

Eira

Thank you guys