Verdad Magazine Volume 14
Spring 2013, Volume 14
Poetry by Donald Illich
The Collapse
O, forehead, I haven't talked about you
enough. Your story of how I collapsed
is beautiful. How the blood screwed up
its directions, giving my mind something
to fail at. On the sidewalk, I bruised
my bones, closed my eyes like blinds.
The ambulance came, everyone feared it
might be too late. But later that day
I did something else — spoke words backwards,
strung together memories in the wrong order.
You were witness to all this, but what
you recall is her kiss dampening your skin.
BIO: I am a writer-editor who lives in Rockville, Maryland. I've published work in LIT, The Iowa Review, Nimrod, and other publications.