THE PATH OF TOTALITY
By John Davis
That day our names didn’t rhyme
with anything. The world, all blue,
flashed black for two minutes, eclipsed
the norms of nature. Birds stopped chirping.
Death was smooth-edged, then it lived.
Dew wanted to renew itself on the Buick’s windshield,
and the inverted wind began to
whip from the sudden temperature shift.
Night was all night. Then day
erased the stars. Your dream just
started, then departed, buried in a landfill
with dreams of rain showers, ice cream
afternoons, anything cool. Then heat.
That day like any summer day
your best friend prayed for you
but, like a substitute, hoped the darkness
would take you so he could step
in and take your lover’s hand.
John Davis is a polio survivor and the author of Gigs and The Reservist. His work has appeared in DMQ Review, Iron Horse Literary Review and Terrain.org. He lives on an island in the Salish Sea and performs in several bands.