Dr. Seuss would have loved vox poetica!
For My Dear Doctor, Dr. Seuss
By Sarah Anne Stinnett
By Sarah Anne Stinnett
September 1991 is when you died.
I can’t remember where I was,
swaddled in blankets perhaps
mourning for a reason, not the right one;
a rattle lost, why is my bottle cold?
I, too little to know
you had slipped away before I hopped on pop
you left before I could say hello.
Mom told me exactly where she sat
the Friday Kennedy died.
In front of her TV she was cross-legged,
a child of eleven
that Friday Kennedy died.
The shock deafened her as if she were under water.
She said it was like an unspoken farewell a tree speaks
when it falls to the ground.
In those split seconds of quiet balance
between sky and earth
everyone hears the goodbye
before the boom.
Before one fish became two fish
you died
before you became my friend.
I mourn for you now
not because you don’t know
Oh, all the places I’ll go–
because in your dying silence
I couldn’t hear your goodbye.
from there to here, from here to there great poetry is everywhere.
I really like this poem.
Yes, i like it too!
There are two extreme opposite memories
here. Yet you make them blend beautifully.