Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Three days later, I found a dead baby chipmunk
in the garden. At first I wasn't sure if he was alive
or not. He seemed to twitch but when I took a stick
to try to move him, he was clearly stiff. The twitch
must have been a breeze illusion.

I sat on the large rock near the peonies and heather
just staring at it. Just watching it not move. I must have
stared at it for a good ten or fifteen minutes before
she came up to me. I didn't even notice her there at first.
I didn't hear her coming. I felt the sunlight blocked,
a shadow over my left shoulder. I smelled chlorine.

"It's dead," she said. "Cat must have killed it.
Why do you keep looking at it? I've been watching
you look at it. I was in the bathhouse. I've just had a swim."

Normandy always had a penchant for stating the obvious.
I looked up into her face blocking the sun with my hand,
her hair dripping wet. I thought I saw her smile but no,
that wasn't a smile. Her eyes were as full as the pool
and she just stood there, so statuesque, so lithe, draped
in a brilliantly colored terrycloth towel.

"I have to go get dressed," she said. "My swimsuit's
soaking wet. I'm freezing even in this sun."

"Well go then! I'm not stopping you!"
Why was she telling me this?
Why was she even here?

"What are you going to do? Just keep staring at it?,"
she asked. "What good is that going to do?
It's dead. It's not coming back."

She turned to run back to the bathhouse.
I thought I heard a sob but she turned away quickly
so I couldn't see. Maybe she wasn't really crying after all.
I'd never known Normandy to cry. Her eyes would fill up
like a pool but tears never fell. Ever.

Even when the priest recited the rites, no tears from Normandy.
Instead she joked, "When I come back, I'm coming back as her
so I can be dead already."

Normandy looked like a cartoon of a giselle.
She got smaller and smaller then disappeared
into the bathhouse.

I poked the dead chipmunk with the stick. I rolled him
over on his back, then back on his stomach. I must
have done this five or six times.


dp.5.2.09

your poem has an understated beauty to it. fine work, doreen.

thanks dino... a new narrative style i'm trying out.

quite a shift for you, Dor'... i like the echoes i hear between the words.

continue exploring...

This is very good.

There's a lot to play with here.

"When I come back, I'm coming back as her
so I can be dead already."

Reminded me of J D Salinger for some reason.

Thank you very much for the poem

Cecil ... it is very different for me. I usually incorporate meter and rhythm. All this poem has is imagery. Maybe a metaphor. I guess the chipmunk is a metaphor. Anyway, not sure it's a poem. Was really thinking along the lines of writing a novel when I started writing it. Thanks again.

Brad ... thanks very much. I was inspired after reading some Haruki Murkami short stories. I noticed you replied that you've read him too when I posted something about him i the Lit forum.

Jack ... that was my favorite line. Really? Reminds you of Salinger? cool! interesting

he always seemed to have Zen like children in his stories.

I read about half of Dream Catcher his daughter's memoir of him.

NOt a daddy deariest book in my opinion.

I did not know he had PTSD

But it is obvious to me now.

yeah... cool! .. that's true...

interesting that you thought they were children... in my head, they're in their 20's ... someone else on another site said she thought the girl was a child or teen ...

could be... hmmm... haven't developed the characters yet but i'm thinking 20's ... i have a story in my head .. this might not be a poem, it might just be part of the story.

not a poem but certainly poetic.

doreen I don't know what to say now.

You are onto something, I hope I have not caused you to overthink it. You keep write on sister. I truly liked this as much as J. D. Salinger I meant that as high praise.

Strong characters, don't fuck around with them because of anything I said.

but you knew that.

no... just thought it was interesting that two different people thought the characters were kids... wondering why ... maybe adults don't swim? lol

thanks again, jack! sincerely!

I only saw ardillas in disney films so for me it also has some seventy´s childhood technicolor atmosphere!.... It looks like a poem & I enjoyed the narrative in it, gracias!!!!!!!!

Ach! This made me sad. It's so visual, I can just see it...pokin the chipmunk, trying to see if it's really dead, if it might catch it's breath again, is it really really just...nothing now?
Like some ending relationships, we just can't believe it's over really so we poke and poke and turn it with a stick.
I love and hate this piece Doreen.
That's a compliment.
H

Arcadia ... yay! it'll be a movie! great idea! ... (i thought ardillas were squirrels.... hmmm... guess not!)

Hest .... i love that you love it and hate it! Perfect! thanks so much!