Orange Bags on a Table

Orange Bags on a Table

Copyright © July 19, 2014 by Douglas W. Jerving.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except as provided by USA copyright law.

She looked at the sky that should show, windowed,
Beyond the dark shadows. Like Quentin Collins
Hoping for daylight so that the frame pane
Could somehow deliver her.

                                     “What do you want?”

Elias, certain she knew what she needed:
A home in the sky. A salvation. She
Plead the plight of all mankind and still day
Held it’s light so far away. Orange bags
On the table in the basement came first
Into her mind as memorial stones
Before a gray new dawn that drew back hard
The curtains of a curtailed world she knew
Before the silence of night brought this death.

Elias was a strong and somber man
With arms hard from years of fighting demons
First given birth within himself when young.
To small then for his own memory to
Recall without adding fictions his own
Making to the mixture.

                               “We should go”
He said, “Before the light of day breaks in
And brakes upon us like that dark of night
Did so before we finally came here.”

The dawn was not yet drawing down upon
Them as they stepped out into the new day.
“How many more nights do we still endure
Before the daylight?” It was a question
More than an answer, but El did not know.
“We go before our own death down to hell
And only thence know why we were not there.”


Doug Jerving is the publisher of the You may contact him at


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