Hospice Visitor
For WFC
In spite of all, you were a better man
than I’d ever have been in spite of all,
more zealous in your faithful office than
was called for, really. The disinfected hall
you walked down after church those afternoons
was flicker-lit, drop-ceilinged, walls off-white.
You carried flowers sometimes or balloons,
brought cards or rosary beads, smiling that quite
quite iridescent smile you loved to show
to hopeless, grey, forgotten, dying souls
in railinged beds. You stood by them as though
your smile could fill with light the darkest holes
they’d ever think themselves thrown in though still
alive—lovelight to warm or consecrate
their fading, give them just a bit of will
to smile back as they watched you perorate
about whatever you’d go on about.
You knew—I know—and wanted them to hear
there was a light that would not flicker out
and that’s what you gave them as they gave ear.
Stargazers
I’d live to have
that life again,
streets that were,
and never are,
the curb, the fence,
the muscle car
on blocks: nine
maybe, maybe ten,
I walked along
(that “now” now “then”)
numinous, an avatar
whose life I’d live
to have again
on streets that were,
and never are:
wall-grate mobbed
with cyclamen,
“stargazers,”
each a star,
light from far
away, plain-chanting
ever out of when
I’d live to have
that life again.
Terence Culleton has published poems in a variety of reviews and journals in both the U.S. and the U.K., including Amherst Review, Alabama Literary Review, Birmingham Review, Blue Unicorn, Cumberland Review, Edge City Review, Modern Poetry Quarterly, and Sparks of Calliope. A Bucks County (PA) Poet Laureate emeritus, his work has been nominated several times for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net, and several of his poems have been featured on NPR. Mr. Culleton’s fourth volume of poetry, Message From a Floating Dock, is out through White Violet Press. Look for news about Terence on his website: terenceculletonpoetry.com.
