Opens Dark
To be final is the step before being no more.
It is the death before death.
I feel some pressure in writing this.
Ah! I will describe this last moment here on my old brown sofa.
My dog snorts, finally tired and curled up toward the evening.
The white curtains look kind in their graceful knots.
My photos are always of children.
I didn’t write my book.
But no regrets.
My injured foot nestles into the dog’s paw.
I feel an uncommon sense of comfort.
The walls in my living room are white and textured.
There’s a mirror over the couch with open doors.
Here I am
The dog is healthy and young and has years to run and play.
Susan Prevost is a true river rat from New Orleans—the city that informs most of her writing and photography as well as a good chunk of her identity. She teaches ESL to refugees and writes poems and non-fiction. Susan is also a climate activist and fights the petrochemical industry in Cancer Alley on the river in South Louisiana.
