Iridescence *

    by Christine Klocek-Lim

You are not to blame. We separate.

We jump in the river, flailing, sink along

the slippery shore. Angels come too late.

Iridescence decorates the wrong

sky. I close my eyes against the sting

of antiseptic. Plastic tubing smells

forever. We pretend that everything

will be all right. His brother gathers shells

as though the sound of water matters. I

cry when no one knows. My darling son,

can you see the rainbows in the sky?

Perhaps. I know the morphine has not run

its course. The river beckons. I will keep

your dreams safe, my little boy. Just sleep.

© 2010  Christine Klocek-Lim

1. *previously published in Think Journal, Spring 2010, Issue 3.1 and
   

  in the author’s chapbook, Cloud Studies - a sonnet sequence.

Christine Klocek-Lim received the 2009 Ellen La Forge Memorial Prize in poetry. Her poetry was featured as the Editor’s Choice in the September 2011 issue of Touch: The Journal of Healing. She has four chapbooks: How to photograph the heart (The Lives You Touch Publications), The book of small treasures (Seven Kitchens Press), Cloud Studies - a sonnet sequence (Whale Sound Audio Chapbooks), and Ballroom — a love story (Flutter Press). She is editor of Autumn Sky Poetry and her website is november sky.