A Memory of Death
IX. A Memory of Death –
It was the middle of the night
and it was dark. Especially dark
because I was under the El.
Rattle of train overhead.
I wasn’t a little girl sleeping.
Innocent and safe in her bed.
I was a full grown man.
A junkie. A bum. My back
to a stanchion, I slid down
until I was sitting at its base.
I was stabbed and I was dying.
My life was ebbing away.
It was meaningless.
Then I woke up. A little girl.
Innocent and safe in her bed.
But with something new.
Something that wasn’t there
before. The memory of dying.
The memory of being stabbed
to death and dying alone
under the El.