Mike Gullo
I heard Mike was killed
last Saturday.
I could say
we went on a trip together,
but it would sound as though
Mike and I had been together.
I saw him driving his blue Chevy
down Temple Street.
I saw him falling off Chris’s shoulders
in the ocean.
I saw him hold a Blue Morpho butterfly
breathing its wings on the tip of his finger.
And I remember the look on his face
because he was always calm.
He had a calm face as though
he was never suspicious.
=================================
(earlier version)
I didn’t know Mike very well,
but we went on a class trip once.
I could say
we went on a trip together,
but it would sound
as though Mike and I were together.
I heard Mike was killed
last Saturday.
I remember the look on his face.
I wish I could say I remember
the look on his face when…
but it would sound like I could
remember a significant moment.
I saw him driving his blue Chevy
down Temple Street.
I saw him falling off Chris’s shoulders
in the ocean.
I saw him hold a Blue Morpho butterfly
breathing its wings on the tip of his finger
as he walked through the dining room.
And I remember the look on his face
because he had a calm as though
he was never suspicious.
Mike Gullo
Mike Gullo
Last edited by Manna on Mon Mar 26, 2007 6:16 pm, edited 2 times in total.
- Christopher T. George
- Posts: 96
- Joined: Thu Mar 08, 2007 4:48 pm
- Location: Baltimore, Maryland, USA
- Contact:
Hi Manna
This is a tender and nicely nuanced remembrance. I like the honesty of the narrator admitting that they really didn't know the person well. I can say that when I have heard someone that I have known has died it has come as a shock, even if I have not know the person well. Somehow we each feel diminished and unsettled to learn that someone we spent time with, even on the internet, is gone. I especially like the well chosen imagery toward the end of the poem:
I saw him hold a Blue Morpho butterfly
breathing its wings on the tip of his finger
as he walked through the dining room.
-- there's a breathtaking quality to those lines. Nicely done.
Chris
This is a tender and nicely nuanced remembrance. I like the honesty of the narrator admitting that they really didn't know the person well. I can say that when I have heard someone that I have known has died it has come as a shock, even if I have not know the person well. Somehow we each feel diminished and unsettled to learn that someone we spent time with, even on the internet, is gone. I especially like the well chosen imagery toward the end of the poem:
I saw him hold a Blue Morpho butterfly
breathing its wings on the tip of his finger
as he walked through the dining room.
-- there's a breathtaking quality to those lines. Nicely done.
Chris
Christopher T. George
http://chrisgeorge.netpublish.net
http://chrisgeorge.netpublish.net