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Wilson Carthage


Naples, FL, US

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Between the Bubbles and the Foam


Wilson Carthage

More ritual than spiritual-
It is still their special evening
When each can secretly despise
The reasonings of their youth
She starts with a salad...
He has soup
Simple appetizers
For what is always a difficult meal
And in the end
Both have had their fill

It's an old toast made anew
For a drink that absorbs the taint
Of forsaken "I Do's,"
And flows as freely as the wax
That drips - then dries
Conforming into something
That is less fortified
It's a pretty process with gruesome results
But tonight,
She will not accuse
He will not insult

Whether anniversary or anathema
He made sure his collar was clean
She'll let him claim the cheque
It's a receipt he CAN see
All is paid with funds that both can account
Their's is a celebration that
Leaves so little to doubt
A final sip -
They'll rise from the chairs and
Glance at each other with eyes
Too guility to glare

Sun Soon Come


Wilson Carthage

Dear verdant isles,
Dare not betray me in this-
My final hours
Withing your blessed subtrefuge...
Where sweeping breezes gently sway
Palms like skinny willows
That bow to greet sands free of callow
As ageless as your tides...

For three days in May...
A tragic topic of tropic
Rain falling and frogs calling
At my bamboo window sill...
Where I still sit in silent reflection
Of the smiling, barefoot man
Who would comfort our costly folly
With a ready reply reserved
For every jolly-robbed tourist.

Too Numb To Feel


Wilson Carthage

I am the box_
Stocked on the shopís bottom shelf.
No one will buy me because
My label is plain.
My tasteóperceived as bland,
But here I stand_
My fateó ageó
The inevitable Achillean heel_
You think Iím something less than a man_
Something ó thatís too numb to feel.

I am an insect,
Unfortunate in not finding
The full impact from your foot.
I am an animal,
Near complete in a journey across the road.
Half crushed, but still writhing to and fro,
Desperately hoping to be killed,
Wishing indeed that only I were
Too numb to feel.

I am an old woman
Devoted in reading the daily obits.
I am a drunkard
Determined in trying to tie my shoe.
One waits to die.
One despairs over inability.
I am both of these
And hopeless when I sneeze
For it goes ignored
Like some doctorís prescribed pill,
And lord knows I would give anything
For the miraculous medication
That could truly render me_
Too numb to feel.

My eyes are not yet surrendered,
But you will not see_
I have something to say_
But you will not listen to me.
I am too familiar to fear,
Too foreign to fully comprehend,
But you can_.if you only will_
Iím not yet frozen by your chill.
If you must go_then leave me,
But please believe me_
I am not too numb to feel.