Prose Poem: La Petit Mort


by Michelle Beltano Curtis

You’ve abandoned me my friend, you—my religion—in my crisis, my greatest time of need. My peril of spirit and body slipping away from the world with all that it used to mean. Without you, I am nothing, nothing, no joy, no quake, no death, no rebirth, no release. You do not reel me in, do not free me. You do not hold me close, only to drop me over your precipice. You, the lover I could always count on never to turn away so long as I had some batteries, a few working fingers. You, the one who was there no matter how bad I behaved, no matter how much I hated myself— sometimes the more I hated myself. No matter how much I loved you, quivered for you, begged for your sweet embrace—You and your little man in the boat—simply paddled away.

All Rights Reserved. “La Petit Mort” may not be reprinted without permission.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.