top of page

"Ghost Dance" by LindaAnn LoSchiavo



That year morphine became a minuet,

Sweet pianissimo. Its soft pedals stilled

Anguish, reproached relentless timekeeping —

Tick, tick — mortality’s metronome.


Before my mother died at home, she learned

That cancer’s like a Depression Era

Endurance contest: the dance marathon,

Odds stacked against her, swaying in slow mode.


Despite defiant hair, a plump physique

Deceiving guests, illness hokey-pokeyed

Her organs, shook breasts off, rhumbaed her cells,

Vitality an unremembered song,

Mere noise until sweet exhalations ceased.


Her corpse was wheeled away. The tempo changed.


Dynamic force reclaimed the rooms, infirm

No longer. Energy expressed intent

As if Mom were at a debutante’s ball,

Star of the floor show, sequined, applauded.


The mind’s embrasures, freed from pain’s embrace,

Seek entertainment, longing to erase

What’s real. Belonging to another realm —

Where everyone’s transparent —Mom’s got plans

She’s telepathed. But first she wants to dance.



A coldness sidles up to seize my hand.




Native New Yorker LindaAnn LoSchiavo, a Pushcart Prize, Rhysling Award, Best of the Net, and Dwarf Stars nominee, is a member of SFPA, The British Fantasy Society, and The Dramatists Guild. Elgin Award winner "A Route Obscure and Lonely," "Concupiscent Consumption," "Women WhoWere Warned," Firecracker Award, Balcones Poetry Prize, Quill and Ink, and IPPY Award nominee "Messengers of the Macabre" [co-written with David Davies], "Apprenticed to the Night" [Beacon Books, 2023], and "Felones de Se: Poems about Suicide" [Ukiyoto Publishing, 2023] are her latest poetry titles.

Comentarios


bottom of page