cracka-boom!

AFTER THOUGHTS
FROM AN ABDUCTION

By Maryann Hazen

 

 You ready?

 Don't mind the noise, you get used to it,

 after a while. It's not so bad.

 I'll tell it like I remember,

 if you'll let me.

 In this world of reality we, you know,

 dawdle about our day-to-day destinies.

 We whicker down over local

 pop-skull whiskey, packs of Lucky Strikes.

 That's when the world swam away down stream.

 Trespassers will be prosecuted.

 

 

 Give me a minute...

 behind my head laughter ripples

 like water over turnips.

 Go ahead, roll your eyes, but

 inside my face, Fran,

 I still see the memory...

 

 

 That night a young man appeared,

 hand at throat beating like a broken wing.

 Out of breath and heaving hard.

 Thunder clouds at his heels with rain to follow

 up close, personal, so horribly hollow.

 Storm slashing down like electric spit.

 Flashing like fat in a frying pan.

 Mounting and pounding the slow summer night.

 One solid crack splitting open

    deeply dank, fresh turned earth.

 Wildly alarming mound of

 rocky rubble, pebbles popping.

 A smoky, sizzling, stinking shoe.

 Then he was just gone.

 

 

 Fran, I think the creatures from those thinly places,

 you know, granted him immediate immortality.

 I believe when a soul reaches it's homeland,

  (above or below the sky,)

 it's clad in a christmasy cosmos

 creating a stimulating, almost mystical,

 experience to behold.

 Did you know there's red Jell-O today?*

 

 

  Poem copyright 1998 by Maryann Hazen <Faerhart2@aol.com>

  Illustration copyright 1998 by Duncan Long <duncan@kansas.net>

 

 


PREVIOUS PAGE
previous

Masthead || Editorial & Letters || Authors
Planet Magazine Home

 

NEXT PAGE
next