Stumbling around snippets of
the life of Anne Rice
I'm surprised at how saddened and
pulled by emotion I am
In front of this cold clackety clack
keyboard and screen.
His image saved forever in
faded browns and creams
His voice as crisp, young, persistant
in my ears as if mine were hers though
She reminded me this week of
The anniversary of his death.
My eyes and heart drink in these digital
moments and it strikes me that they
Should belong to her alone.
His voice in my ears as if mine were hers,
Drink in every drop and my heart
hurts with the words of her Stan.
Written by Lori Petroff, after stumbling across footage of Stan Rice reading poetry.