October 15
Lingering smells of vinegar and fish,
red and green smears on an empty plate,
a solitary bone in a serving dish.
The constable pours tea
in a room drenched in sunlight;
an incongruous joke becomes light relief.
At his age a simple case of lights out, it’s said,
something you have to believe.
Only an hour before he stood at the door
complaining of chest pains that
Alka Seltzer would not relieve.
The neighbour walks in wiping her eyes,
tells of a conversation by the fence.
She cups her drink, shakes her head,
unable to make much sense.
Light another round of cigarettes,
though wherever the eyes fall
there are many reasons for regret.
So stand, walk around,
peep through the net curtains where
the ambulance casts its shadow – no sound.
You’re numb with facts that won’t ingest;
a still hot soldering iron, pliers, cut wire,
like something from the Marie Celeste.
poem © copyright David F. Barker 2012
* first published in poetry collection ‘Anonymous Lines’, available at amazon.com
Ciscography 
A very lovely poem David!!!
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Hi David
this one gives me the shivers, what happend there…
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DF, you have perfectly captured here what happens in a close-knit community when a treasured member is suddenly struck down! It is the commonplace items you image here that tell the deep truths of friendship and neighborliness!
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So sad how fragile life is. You never know….
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What a beauty..oh i have been there in that room wondering how and when..
horrifying how fast ‘is’ becomes ‘was’
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Thank you so much Soma!
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Thank you GB – once again, you are very perceptive. This is based on the death of my father nearly 30 years ago. Thank you!
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It brings to mind the month of May and being in the hospital with my own dad for weeks…and running into a friend in the cafeteria who had just brought her dad in, caught in the balance between being where he could receive help, but with severe cardiac problems. There’s a definite tipping point where it all “goes south.” I’m so glad I can leave comments again…I’ve been going to Spam folders! I’ve been reading your poetry, though, and I so enjoy it. Debra
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heck…you paint the scene well..
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Thank you so much!!!
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Very powerful poem, David – there is that shock of what can happen so fast… Your writing is always so rich with imagery – and strong with honest emotion.
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Thank you very much Betty!
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I’m only too familiar with the moment when:
You’re numb with facts that won’t ingest…
What this poem captures, at least for me, is the anesthetic passage of time when everything you are or know becomes a moment that goes on and on as you try to understand what has just happened to you, the person close to you who is now gone, and living itself. Little things have an enormous impact:
Lingering smells of vinegar and fish,
red and green smears on an empty plate,
a solitary bone in a serving dish.
Then there are these strangers that belong in that moment, but do not belong there at all:
The constable pours tea
in a room drenched in sunlight
Then the truth that cannot really be the truth:
At his age a simple case of lights out, it’s said,
something you have to believe.
Only an hour before he stood at the door
complaining of chest pains that
Alka Seltzer would not relieve.
This is magnificent poetry that should be written, but that should not have an occasion to be written, not even after time has passed, and you are through the initial anguish and into the rest of your life with an absence that should not be there.
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Thank you so much Thomas – this is about my father’s sudden death 30 years ago.
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