Jim and Sondra Share A Moment (fragment)

he slides
down the hospital corridor
in foam rubber slippers
and drawstring pants because
they’ve taken his belt away.

he spies her, lying in the bed
with her mummy-swathed wrists,
and when their eyes touch
it’s meat on a griddle: sizzle
and black marks all over.

___________________________________________

It’s odd to me that the next piece of the Jim and Sondra poems should be the last one in the series as I’ve envisioned it, but perhaps I need to figure out the end before I fill in the middle. After all, the Jim Poems weren’t written in order either.

I’ve also decided to take the unusual step (for me) of sharing this fragment before the poem is substantially completed. Just an experiment. I have no idea if this is the beginning, the end, the middle, or whether or not this will even end up in the completed piece. It belongs here now, I guess.