I watch you slide
through golden links hung
like a fly-curtain across the maw;
even the metal’s brilliance
can’t disguise the reality of your journey
perhaps he waits for you-
you’ve been a long time coming,
but then, he left too soon
and you like that devoted
duck, on and off the curb
exhorting her dead drake to rise from the gutter…
the lengthened shadow
of a cross
falling
falling
never to touch
your flowerless box, no
six-pointed star to lead the way
the lick of flame
his gold ring
on your fourth finger still
(c) Karen Zelas
This poem is from Karen’s first collection ‘Night’s Glass Table’ (Interactive Publications Pty Ltd-2012). This is what she says about its origins.
“When my father died in middle age, my mother lost her soul-mate and endured another thirty-five years alone. It may seem strange to liken one’s parents to a pair of ducks, but the event seared a heart-breaking image on my retina. With reference to the cross and the star (of David), my mother chose not to have a Jewish funeral, but she would nevertheless have been mortified to know the shadow of a cross hung over her coffin during the farewell. Such are the vagaries of culture and religion.”
To read more about Karen and her work please click here.
And when you are ready, return to Tuesday Poets and read Saradha’s fascinating editorial selection.
A lovely poem, Helen — one of many fine poems in Karen’s colelction.
A soft, sad offering. I like the duck comparison – the dead drake in the gutter is a lasting image, as is the ring on her fourth finger.