Loch Ness Monster
We were watching the green fireworks
rise and fall over the Northumberland Strait
when you told me that you didn’t know
how much time you had left.
We were drunk at the time, and
I left it at that. Drunk talk. It happens
to the best of us. But now, thinking back,
I should have listened when you told me
that the Loch Ness Monster was hidden
somewhere deep inside of you.
The blackness we all have,
but don’t speak of.
So, should I have been surprised
when the phone rang with your mother
on the other end, crying something
about your blood and brains
in a bathtub?
On Tuesday, following your wake,
walking down rain soaked steps
thinking of your pale face there
in that casket, I wished I could have
pushed your brains back in
through your eyes, and drew
with my finger, your lips
into something the shape of a smile.
* Tyler Bigney was born in 1984. He lives and writes in Nova Scotia, Canada.
