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A Treatise on Certainty

by David Hill

Maybe I’m dreaming the former,
the latter, neither or both.
I never know.

Last night,
in a hospital bed,
my Mom went puff, puff, gurgle,
blood came out,
she was gone.

This morning,
in our old neighborhood.
it rains so hard;
Gordon Drive fills and flows,
a rushing stream.
I am knee deep, fly fishing,
netting a speckled rainbow.

I look up to see all
our neighbors along the curb,
standing or sitting
in cloth-back chairs,
this spectacular autumn.

Then we see her,
around the bend she comes
spinning stern to bow, stern to bow,
in a flat bottom boat.
Blue eyed, a baby-blue coffin dress,
waving to everybody,
waving to everything.

They sing, “So long, Blanche, so long!”

I can only watch;
the boat draws right,
disappears down Valley Drive;



Posted on 10/15/2010
Copyright © 2024 David Hill

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by V. Blake on 10/15/10 at 03:25 AM

Exquisite, David. Though I hope you are not telling a true story here. If so, I am really sorry man.

Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/15/10 at 06:12 PM

...david, same here as what vince says: a healthy write.

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/15/10 at 08:50 PM

I'll echo Vince's sentiment. Fiction or not this is heartbreaking, powerful stuff.

Posted by Therese Elaine on 10/16/10 at 02:11 AM

Some things come with their own kind of certainty -bone deep, inherent and incoherently clear, as though a moving picture show has come to life and swept you up with it, but though everything it's showing you is real, it is not. As the others have mentioned, this is haunting in the tinge of grief surrounding every word -but in its own way, it is beautiful, because of being able to say 'goodbye.'

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