To love you forever, I wanted to
live forever—but not like this:
a turnip, a cabbage, worse. In this
constant twilight, there is less
of the meat of me, more of the wink
of diodes and the murmur of strangers
turning me, muscleless, slack as old rags.
Being little more than breath and bone,
the tether between body and soul
stretches invisible. I think I hear
your voice, and my body responds:
the chirp of a distant grasshopper.
[Refer: This poem refers to stanza 4 from “13 Ways of Angels” by Scott Owens.]
Image by Michelle Tribe via Flickr Creative Commons
Nancy Priff’s writing has been published in Ruminate Magazine, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Kaleidowhirl, and The Writer’s Chronicle as well as in several anthologies. She has an MFA in creative writing and has received a Fellowship in Literature from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts.