Sennelier Dry Pigment – Caput Mortuum
When I die
take my worthless remains
my after-state shell
lay me in the sun
until I become leather
and my capillaries solidify.
Sell my body to a maker of pigments
let them grind my Death’s Head
combine me with pitch and myrrh
put me in a tube
and sell my soul to an Artist
where I want to become
a strand of hair
a thin shadow over a shoulder blade
or a slight arch in a back’s curve.
If nothing else,
let me add to the background
on the canvas.
Fear
(Lost Lake October 8, 2022 7:37 am)
It started with one shot
then two, until I lost count.
Echoing sounds
ricocheting off
the softness of trees.
I walked by the lake
irritated by the relentless
bombardment of guns
and what that sound
had come to represent.
A fear that one day
she may not return from school.
It was my next step
that flushed a duck
from the stillness of reeds.
I listen to its wing’s
panicked beat on water,
its fear filled call
as the sound
of guns were absorbed
into nothing more
than background.
It was that shared
breath of moment
that set perspective
that expanded
the meaning
of fear.
Both poems have been shortlisted for Best Poem 2022 by judge Nicki Griffin.
Learn more about Jeremy on our Contributors’ Page.
(Photo: Jean-Francois Phillips/ flickr.com/ CC BY-ND 2.0)
- Two Poems by Jeremy Proehl - December 22, 2022