Right Before the Wake, and: A Word on Regression

Abstract

Right Before the Wake, and: A Word on Regression Samantha Lynn Cole (bio) RIGHT BEFORE THE WAKE Charlie Fraley, I seen your facefirst thing upon my passingfrom this side to the next,that devil’s box shoved upand underneath your chin,sweat on your brow, all beadedand dancing right along with the ductiletune your bow eked out,like silver in a jeweler’s hands. And there were leaves on the tree,just out the window. I noticedthem while moving throughthe streaked glass. The windowlooking half melted with age,and those leaves reachedout to wrap themselves aroundmy hands, and the branchesof that oak stretchedto run themselves throughmy hair, just like my mommaused to with her knotty hands. Charlie, you kept right on playingwhile everything in sight kept time,Lord, I can’t blame them.This was what I asked for,my last hymnal, not a hymn at all. [End Page 40] All the while, that tree pulled me closerto hollowed-out ground. I was done,but that song, Charlie, I reckon it is still playing. [End Page 41] A WORD ON REGRESSION Hand reaching backwards throughtime, and which was I? The murdereror the murdered? Likely,never a nobledressed in lace,not even a damn general.A farmer, perhaps.One who watchedthe sun crane slowly acrossthe sky, creep from pole to pole,who died with a spottedface and shock-white hair.Or a bum who killedhis wife when he foundher tucked away in some roomwith another man, more sober,laid the knife to her, red openinglike tulips. Just as easily, his woman,spread on sheets stained with heartblood,those figures later dullingto the color of iron. It isn’t, dear friends,that I romanticize these things.Such are marks of shame on the human head.But, all-in-all, it is much more likelythan an Egyptian courtesan,or the richest man in Prague. [End Page 42] Samantha Lynn Cole Samantha Lynn Cole is a native of Lee County, Kentucky, who graduated from Berea College. Berea is now her home. There, she writes, works, and bakes. Copyright © 2014 Berea College