Lament

A Poem by Kenneth Kunz

Lament
by Kenneth Kunz Narrated by David Kirkwood In memory of Thelma Louise Kunz 1913-1999

Kenamar Corp.

LAMENT

I write you this story though I know you will never read it.

No one will.
But I MUST write it.

Dear Mother, no-Dear Mom, no -just Mommy. There!Dear Mother, NoDear Mom, No just Mommy. There! Lament for Mommy

LAMENT

You had a beautiful ceremony;

LAMENT FOR MOMMY

Lament I know comes from Latin meaning: wailing, moaning, weeping. Well thats just the right word here.

People said really nice things, all true. The cleric, priest or preacher, minister, whatever theyre called now, gave a really nice service and spoke as if he had known you long.

LAMENT

You would have been proud of me. But he did mispronounce your name twice! Stiff upper lip and all that. Your little trooper!

I think he penciled it in the margins of his little book of 23 most beloved funeral services.

But I did very little breathing to stifle sounds not well controlled,
And I did the dabbing very discretely, though I could hardly see.

LAMENT

So here we are aloneand I can bare my soul. I wanted to say great things like the others at the microphone, Ill write it down but show it not. Ill slide it in the hole just before they place you in. It will turn to fumes and pervade your wooden bed.

But the risk of breaking down was just too great for my fragile state.

Youll feel my love forever and a day.

LAMENT

Just this one last prank! I know youll forgive me; --you cant scold me now. Well, - after the service and everyone had gone, There I waited and waited until it got dark, but it never got really dark. So finally, I peeped out. No Mr. McGregor, no anybody.

I scuttered under the shroud around your coffin and hid.

Yes I scuttered, like Peter Rabbit under the gate. So loved you reading me that story!

LAMENT

I saw a small writing table, gilded guest-book, an ornate inkwell, a plumed pen with huge white feather,-nice flourish. And a burning candle on a silver candlestick, just a nubbin now.

Anyway, I opened the book to the last page a blank and carefully tore it out and put the book aside. So I dipped the pen and thus I write. Lament for Mommy. It grabs me, WHAM! I feel a pang. My mommys gone, Gone GONE. Whoa, this prank has gone awry.

LAMENT

I start to write again, feeling all alone, a little scared. Dam.., -er Darn it, A drop hits the page and smeared a word. I just remembered how you held my hand to form the letters.

Mommy, I love you and really miss you already.

I craft the words within my mind, jot them down with feathered pen; and fix them to the paper with blurry stare.

I sniff and start again.

LAMENT

More drops. Cant repair my marks, The papers sogged; Rub turns paper to pulp. Damnyes DAMN!

I pound the table with defiant fist,

but find its just a rubber stamp for some ink jolted from the little well. The nib is bent and will but scratch.

LAMENT

But still I write: I try to rhyme. The words are forced, the meter bad. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! Hey, that rhymes, is alliteration, and is repeated for emphasis! How about that, Mommy!

Whoa! I just caught a whiff, not a scent, just a dim memory, but I felt it yet. A memory before words, or even sight. The primordial mammal bond I had with you.

LAMENT

I only felt it once since, at milking time, with Bessie and her calf at udder.

You were my loving cloth-mom with full breasts. Pity the poor chimp babies with the wire-moms; or the frogs and such with no moms at all.

How I longed to be that calf.

Secure, nurtured, and loved by mother.

LAMENT

I feel the heat start to rise within me. Im like the table with one leg too short, tilting one way, then back.

I came in here somewhat cold, but now Im getting hot.

Little Wobbly, they called me.

You tried to help, by scolding them,

I love you Mommy.

Whoops, I wrote that first.

Stones can only kill, but words do really, really hurt!

LAMENT

I wish to think, but now cannot. My breath is short, I only pant. My eyes still somewhat see. I turn the blinkers up to max. My sculls a cauldron, and my brains a-bubble a witchs brew.

The pendulum swings within my pit, chopping innards for some rancid giblet stew. My legs have turned to piles; I cannot feel my toes.

The poles are broke; the wires are down in this dreadful storm.
I hold my sagging face in sore and shaking hands. Oh! Woe is me!

LAMENT

But theyll never know what happened here, Ive torn the book, spilt the ink, Lest Poes Black Cat screams me out. I hid this scrap within my soggy pants. Next morn, theyll not find me here;

broke the pen,

scratched the table, AND peed the floor!

Ill ride within the casket-cart, masked by the linen shroud.

LAMENT

I think of my mother lying there. I must shake this mood. I stare into the flame. Id trade her place, ere I could.

The image burned into my brain.

I close my eyes, the lights still there, but the flickers not.

But here shed be, her dead son to grieve.

Wish upon her that, I could not, could not!

LAMENT

God! Mary! Jesus!, son! mother! me! I look around the chapel room. Mary, looking to her Son upon his post. How dreadfully she must suffer. She would take his place, as any mother would. But He would nay her and face the fate he should. Mommy! Death! Unholy death! Beelzebub! Baskervilles! Betelgeuse! My heads a-swirl. Wheres my flock of friendly sparrows to exhort me now? Oh! Woe is me!

LAMENT

I stare back into the flame. The candles spent. Just a puddle of melted wax within a fragile rim. I watch with bated breath to spare the fragile life. The dam is breached!

Clear lava dribbles down the silver stick and sets, slowly turning back to milky white. The slight black wick barely stands, The flame half its former size. It teeters; it falls. The light is gone. Gone--forever. DEAD- FOR-EVER! Oh! Woe is me!

LAMENT

The after-image of the flame slowly fades to black, and comes to view my mother lying there. I see her clearly through the planks. Ive now wobbled way too far to even say at least:

FATE, -thou cruel, cruel beast!

Mommy Dear, Good-Bye. Alas, my mother cannot else but die. And I, I cannot else but cry.

Kenamar

Kenamar
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Kenamar

Kenamar
A Kenamar Videobook

Kenamar

21