The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

Volume-1                                          June-2011                                                        Number-1

 

 

Coma

by  Sam Eisenstein
 
He remembered
the screech of tires
a vein pulsing in his head
 
Comforting sound
of many rubber wheels
the smell of exhaust
 
An immense expanse
of jeweled crystal
he shared with ghosts
 
His wife, the children
parents herding sheep
tall buildings collapsing
 
Foul tastes
far back in the throat
a cough not completed
 
Inner dialogue
with world figures 
Cosmic peace
 
All languages his
and instant transport
to distant destinations
 
From deep underwater
the crystal began ascent
annoying his inner ear
 
Then: frighting
the hosts of figures
who fled in a crowd of bubbles
 
The container began to melt
rather than shatter 
yet left shards
 
Embedded in skin, groin
body's outlying parts
unused to sensation 
 
He groaned musically
mimicking sheep bleating
in a lost meadow
 
He saw faces above him
eager for language
a telling pointed finger
 
They watched his eyes
for signs of recognition
body's coherent movement 
 
As the crystal womb melted
the mouth of his wife
swam into his sight
 
Opened to her smile
of familiar wrinkles
appealing irregularities
 
His heart leaped
to meet her lips
and form his own
 
She said then clearly
I'm your daughter
all that's left
 
With that he knew
he had traveled
with light speed
 
Over years in which
his wife had stumbled
and fatally fallen
 
He now bitter
fully aware
knew this awakening
 
Came too late
far from any home
he could know
 
He willed reentry
to a fully reconstituted
many-faceted crystal
 
Into which he fled
with the relief
of finality