Double Effect: December 31
… it is natural to everything to keep itself in
being,” in as far as possible.
—Aquinas
Goodbye Year-I-Almost-Died
the bridge closes behind you
in closing to you
it opens to me, a foreseeable
but unintended consequence
of your passing
the one-armed tender, drunk
and mending nets
will wave me through
Year-I-Almost-Died, I pass you
the peace
one day I’ll forget who you are
Down the bayou
I make the veillé
turn down a shell road
I get down at the levee
I like to sit on the grass
and be with the stars
I still like to drive the colors
wild I like to pray
bromeliads on fire
Year-I-Almost-Died
I curse and bless you
for all your magic
and all your monstrosities
the lizard that eats its own skin
the fern flaring after rain
And nights I laid my back on the waves
I laid my hands at my side
the darkness erasing the tracers
I stood on silver guardrails
I swallowed the streetlights
the coyotes in the mist-draped field
Year-I-Almost-Died
you were that promising date
that began with a chilled corsage
and ended on a rainy doorstep without a kiss
you were that toast, that pyrotechnic
display and its acrid smell
Year-I-Almost-Died
we slept together in a twin bed
while the dog curled on the floor
O what a better companion he is
he rounds my sleep
and covers my dreams
Year-I-Almost-Died
the bridge closes behind you
and in closing it opens for me
Martha Serpas ’94 M.Div. “Double Effect: December 31” from Double Effect. Copyright © 2020 by Martha Serpas. Reprinted by permission of LSU Press. See lsupress.org.