Treasure Island

Claudia Krizay

(1/28/1956 / Washington DC)


Coins fall in a
Myriad of colors, as
Confetti thrown at a surprise party-
From a place that could be heaven
My thoughts, broadcasted aloud.

None but a celebration-
A surprise is to see the dancing waters
Rise and fall to the tune of Chopin’s waltzes.
Drop a coin in a fountain, no matter how fluorescent the color.

My thoughts are muted, as
Cotton fills each hollow space in my brain
A strange and inexplicable sensation this is,
Forever misunderstood-as the hands
Of my digital watch, I would turn
If it deemed possible- and count backwards fifty-one years
A power struggle, it would be, against the romances of nature
Every clock ticks as
Each hand, second by second advances,
Carrying me to the unknown?
Ashes to ashes, to hell or heaven, or could there even be an
At all?

Coins fall from where could be heaven.
I hear strange voices within a charnel house,
Every clock in this world must be ticking. As
Second hands advance about every watch face.

Pendulums sway, as metronomes beat,
While my night was sleepless…
I never celebrated a party where I threw confetti, or neither
Did I ever catch a handful of coins- no matter how colorful, as they
Fell from the sky.
I was never enticed by the sight of waters dancing.
I lived in the charnel house while the rest of the world was alive.
Cotton stuffed in
Every empty space of my brain
Dampened my spirits.
A lone coin tumbles from the could-be heavens.
Perhaps I did not hear the time lapse?

Submitted: Friday, January 27, 2012

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