Sara Flint Greenberg
02/11/56 — 11/18/22
a small gust…
a small gust blew up the side of his bed
and lodged a few inches from his back
he was a side sleeper
it lodged but was not still
spinning quietly
suspended in space
another gust flew out
from under the bed
up the side
and onto the bed
this time in front of his face
time passed
but spirits do not have time
do they have minds
slowly the gusts closed in
and lifted Mr. Carmichael up
and through the window
which was open in the dead cold
of a Scottish winter
you could hear wolves
if you listened
are there wolves in Scotland
did I say that he slept naked
he did
and now his awareness
slowly woke him
he couldn’t imagine where he was traveling
so slowly
there the neighbor’s doghouse
though he always wondered
why a doghouse out here
in the middle of nowhere
then placekeepers faded away
even trees faded
everything faded to white
he was put down
on his side
and left
he realized that his eyes
were not open
not that so much
as that it did not matter
if his eyes were open
he saw the same thing
in either case
he was a rational man
oh, he thought
i no longer have a body
that’s interesting
as he sat up
how could he sit up
if he no longer had a body
he saw that he was surrounded
by gusts he could feel
but could not see
and then the lights went out
for good
except for one small groan
or sound or whisper
that sounded very much
like his mother’s voice