M a y   2 0 0 4

Guest Writer

A dream sequence as intermission
The funeral pirate
by Troy Eggleston

dreamed of casting
minus the earthworm
a silvery barbed hook
tied with great precision and care
into a small well
designed for emergencies and pennies
where I sat for hours and minutes
waiting for evidence of life
some infinite tug so bold
and adrenaline thick
inevitably snapping the spell
life exploding or even a shy
unperceived glimmer that buries
in the subconscious only to reveal its subtle
miracle when the time is quiet
waiting as songs passed in my mind
slow moody songs
as I held tight, gripping my rod
anxious, detached
and soon enough my expectations
forfeited the spectacular
my head raised to the sky
bored, alphabetizing clouds, daring the sun to blink
my feet dangling over the well
a small dark circle dropping
forever, a bucket, a bullet
dropping its echo bare and skinless
and the day traveled on
first a bleeding sunset
then night came
stubbornly I continued to wait
hunger passed
I imagined luminescent fish
with moons for compasses
and stitches being pulled from my head
releasing cotton and yarn and memories
that slowed down my heart rate
made me want to sleep and never awake
a star fell in my periphery
which made me doubt my periphery
crickets sang then stalled
long enough for trains to pass
and the silence was confusing
the same way I had always imagined calculus to be
the same way most things seemed to be
I begged for freedom
said a prayer
that my grandmother sewed into my pillow
the whole while wondering if stars actually did fall
and from where
is there a planet that could fit into the palm of my hand
and purr like a kitten
but I had no jacket and grew cold
still waiting
as the crickets resumed their eternal song
waiting for something to bite
my silvery barbed hook
minus the earthworm

Read parts one, two, three and four of "The funeral pirate."

E-mail Troy at leonchester@cosmo.com, and find his previous efforts in our archives.

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