Poem

Laura Carter

William James describes it well: the feeling of not-mattering. In some, the feeling becomes so extreme as to mimic death.

But what is this death? It is all an illusion, perhaps the edge of an autoimmune disorder or a curtailing of desire that happens as one ages.

But how do I know? I don’t suppose I do. I have only my own body to account for, and beneath it, the soul.

The soul influenced by the strong things, the body influenced by the weak things, the things of the flesh, of the world.

So: for a few moments, if I can close my eyes and think about cherries, I will revisit the feeling of death. But that’s all. Only for a few moments. And no more.

For life is bigger than that. Life brings with it Joni Mitchell songs and the tunes from the 1960s that make me sing.

And on the phone, a friend calls in, with the hope of the half-moon singing to me over the line, and something begins again.

Feature Date

Series

Selected By

Share This Poem

Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on email

Print This Poem

Share on print

Laura Carter lives and works in Atlanta, and she is a native of the greater Atlanta area. She has published eight chapbooks of poetry, most recently After New Ambiance (Dancing Girl, 2018).

TYPO

Issue 29

Established in 2003, Typo Magazine is an online poetry journal.

Poetry Daily Depends on You

With your support, we make reading the best contemporary poetry a treasured daily experience. Consider a contribution today.