Liz Belile drew her inspiration from the October Poetry Prompts to write this poem:
When you call for the Dead
Don’t say his name
A father curled up in bed
skinny as a hound or
Christ on the cross
A boy in full flower
head thrown back laugh
knuckles green with morning glory
I wake up in sweat
I turn like a cyclone in my too-small sheets
the phone vibrates
I don’t know the number
so I pick up & pray
Don’t say his name
The bullet dodged
the ship I grazed
while at sea
the one who got away
with it
when I thought
the chamber was hollow
buried me in a shallow rut
that one
Don’t say his name
There is a god
so dark and unknown
unwilling to enunciate he drowns us all
in his muck
Don’t say his name
When they fuck
and all she can think of
is
the piercing blue
or the wolf scent
of the other
Don’t say his name
You can call me
tumble me in your open air
but when it all comes down
and the awards are handed over
Don’t say his name
dis•articulations 2015 