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A/trophy
by Jon-Jacob F DealYou said
You see this as a trophy
Well
I see it as atrophy:
Communicative muscles
Flexed too little, too late
Candid thoughts
Like nerve impulses
Stretched, shunted
Strung across an inner distance
Far too great for telephones
To span;
Convulsing only when
With spasmodic grace
I flailed a ruined arm
Slapped you with that withered palm
Placed my paw against your breast
Looked down
And saw
That appendage long lifeless--
And swore I felt your heartbeat
Like a phantom limb. 01/25/2004 Posted on 01/28/2004
Copyright © 2024 Jon-Jacob F Deal
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Maureen Glaude on 01/28/04 at 04:02 PM Clever play on the title. As one familiar with the physical meaning of the literal word, I might also add the suggestion of messages not able to be communicated, anymore, which is the cause of the paralysis. I guess you have a sense of that with the telepone, etc. and communicative messages, but may want to include the breakdown even more obviously? But a great poem. and analogy. |
| Posted by Jeanne Marie Hoffman on 01/29/04 at 06:12 AM I like the play on words with atrophy and a trophy |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 01/29/04 at 07:06 PM Indeed an excellent play on words in the title and throughout. The lines "Strung across an inner distance Far too great for telephones To span" speaks volumes. Bravo! |
| Posted by Trisha De Gracia on 01/30/04 at 08:41 AM The last two lines hit me like bricks. This is great, and very fitting the smart title. well done. |
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