> Exile in Old Age

Exile in Old Age

Par |2019-01-23T02:13:42+00:00 11 novembre 2012|Catégories : Blog|


The heli­cop­ter lif­ted off and rose up
fast and then fell and dip­ped over
and down again and then higher.
I never loo­ked down ; I was green
and then white with fear and nau­sea.

On both sides sat the offi­cers,
serious and silent.
They set me down on this island
where they pro­mise I’ll be
for the rest of my life.

Soon my sto­mach set­tled and
my min­ders chee­red up and spoke :
I’m to have food enough and drink
to last my natu­ral life­time.
Well, I’m old and the plan­ned trip to Kansas

was just a whim, a long shot.
They indi­ca­ted the sto­rage holds,
the large bins with eve­ry­thing –
but actual­ly – I poin­ted this out –
these bins are not so very large.

Then they spoke about mad­ness
and how it thrives in exile.
They plan­ted well the fear –
a sub­ject for a text, they said –
as they lif­ted up and away.