Poetry, Prose and Art Journal
Multilingual, Multicultural, Interdisciplinary Web Edition

Thomas Bell
Nashville, USA

Adrift in Posttraumatic Space

at last at
last at the at the last
at the last of long travails
I can rest. Tonight
Tonight I can write
I can write of
wide-spread license the silent
tonight I can drink
waters of memory

Tonight I can feel
bitterness, tears, rumors whitewash
ing fences. Cover
thickened spaces
we cannot
we cannot traverse

Tonight I can see
Waco, that dry pristine air surrounding the cabin
in a lone truck moving on to unabomb OK City
and here I sit watching hoping awaiting channeling

Tonight I can hope.

Peoria. Black churches in flames and that truck moved
moved on moved on by the moved on by the traffic cop
held the answer.
Tonight I can pretend
or we again could play cowboys and Indians cops and Robbers
citizens and Tanks
star wars defense and The Other
or I could end
or I could make it
or relate
or make sense
or this it is not.

Tonight I can grieve
at last
at the end
at the end
of my at
the end of my days.

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