To Die as a Reader Is to Abandon Many Worlds
“. . . after all, you’ll have three works of fiction going, a collection of essays, a folio of poems, a fat graphic novel, a theological tome . . .”—Claire Bateman
Speculative Friction
By Claire Bateman
GREENVILLE South Carolina—(Weekly Hubris)—11/3/2014—
To Die as a Reader Is to Abandon Many Worlds
. . . because, after all, you’ll have three works of fiction going,
a collection of essays, a folio of poems,
a fat graphic novel, a theological tome,
not to mention the crossword, a galaxy of its own,
and all your old notebooks; you often peruse them as well.
Let them wander, poor strays. Like the renegade slurped by the whale,
you’ll await Judgment Day in a dim kind of liminal station
with the rest of the currently dead—strangers and near-relations.
Will you pine for your books in that place without morning or night,
or will narratives flutter like numberless pages in flight?
No one knows how it goes once you’ve burned out your reading light.
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2 Comments
Anita Sullivan
Claire, this is so helpful to me right now, in a period of grieving for my husband, and of course (by extension) myself-in-advance. We love our own minds, each of which is an entire country with an infinity of mysterious paths that intersect and resonate with one another. I just found out today that penguins sing. If I had died, I wouldn’t know that. Thank you for acknowledging such richness!
claire
Thank you, Anita. I’m glad the poem spoke to you in such a difficult time.
And now because of you I know that penguins sing!
Peace.