My Head Was in a Box
My head was in a box,
upon a table
in a dark and dusty room.
Sweat stung my eyes,
and the air was thin
The serpent coiled about my neck,
tightened its noose—
constricting, constricting.
I called out to my broken body,
that tottered, like an abandoned farmhouse—
good for naught but tinder—
close upon a chair,
as if greedily waiting its evening meal
of slop and moldy bread.
“Set me free, you oaf! Set me free!”
My blind and blundering body,
clawed at the peeling paint
of the rickety table.
It pounded its fists and flailed
in a rage and in delirium,
until, by quite some accident,
it knocked the box over,
and out my head rolled,
like a genie from its bottle—
out the open door and into a field
of wildflowers.
The breeze upon my face.
The sun upon my eyes.
The open air—
I breathed deeply my freedom and thought,
The present moment is as close to eternity as one can get.
ABOUT A POEM A WEEK
Each week, to keep the creative juices flowing, I will write a poem. It will probably be a draft and require some additional love, so please be forgiving. I invite you to join me on this journey. I will try to publish the poem every Monday. It seems fitting to begin on Memorial Day.
It’s the 23rd week of 2023.
Fun fact: On June 6th, 1944, the Allied Forces began their invasion of Normandy, also known as D-Day.