by Barbara Schweitzer
On the screen
the story pours out
his broken lips
like the river
from breached
dikes two
blocks long
that has buried
his wife in lostness
in vast flat
horizonlessness.
The reporter’s hand
to her mouth
presses words back
down her throat
losing them when
he wanders away
eyes vacant
thoughts unwired
I don’t know
what I’m
gonna do
nubbly sounds
drowning
I don’t know
what I’m
gonna do
in his wake.
Barbara Schweitzer is a poet and playwright living in northern RI. Her work has won numerous prizes including a merit fellowship from RI's NEA allotment. Her first volume of poetry, 33 1/3 (Little Pear Press) will be released in spring 2006.
