RESOURCEFUL · PRIS CAMPBELL
12×18, printed on 100% recycled linen paper.
Signed limited edition of 10.
Set in Mrs. Eaves.
Archive-quality glassine envelope included.
In the year of no, as in no way and no how, needing his advice as my cushion, my father suddenly died. Relatives swarmed our family home, comforting my stunned mother and sharing massive platters of turkey and ham brought in by the community, as we gathered our inner resources for the funeral. Disabled by grief, when we arrived outside the already-filled church, the congregation singing hymns from my childhood, my heart pounded, knees buckling. My mother reminded me that I was NOT to break down, weep so anyone could see, or, god forbid, throw myself over the casket like my bi-polar cousin did when her own father died, so I bit my lip, carried myself out of my body when the urge to humiliate my family grew too great, watching the minister exhort us to feel joyful, but he really meant those joy words for my father’s ears, picked off from the herd so quickly, gone to see his maker, bed left cold, garden fallow, while I was left wondering why I could shed tears openly over my dog’s death, or a husband’s abandonment, but not at the most important loss in my life thus far.
songs stifled —
whale bones lie silent below
the Wadi Hitan
About the Author
The free verse poetry of Pris Campbell has appeared in numerous journals, such as PoetsArtists, Rusty Truck, Bicycle Review, Boxcar Poetry Review, and Outlaw Poetry Network. Her last book, Squall Line on the Horizon, a book of romantic tanka, was published by Nixes Mate Books. Her haiku, tanka and haiga publications include Frogpond, cattails, Acorn, Haigaonline, One Hundred Gourds, and Failed Haiku. The Small Press has published six collections of her free verse poetry and Clemson University Press a seventh one, a collaboration. A former Clinical Psychologist, sailor and bicyclist until sidelined by ME/CFS in 1990, she makes her home in the Greater West Palm Beach, Florida.