He watched himself so honestly
he cleared our vision too.
We read his death in The New Yorker--
a magazine death,
Brodkey fragmenting in words.
...
He told us the self he thought he was
died before he died, leaving him
curiously unconcerned about the demise
of the new stranger in his bed.
...
we saw how thin was the carapace
of our own self-constructions;
and, strangely,
how beautiful are the hands
of those that care for us.
— copyright, Lynna Howard, 1999 to 2007 all rights reserved
Legalese: Unless otherwise noted, the text and images that appear on this web site are copyrighted material. Please do not copy or redistribute these materials in any way without prior permission. Thank you, Lynna Howard, 2002. Revised copyright renewed, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008.
