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Laure-Anne Bosselaar: Postcard From The After Life
Everyone here is forgiven or forgotten.
At the Saturday Pearly Balls, I conga
to the karaokes of yokels, popes, madams
& Nobels. No one wears a watch, no strike
of midnight to worry about. I’ve read all
the books & let go of the past — at last.
I debauch daily in the fountain of youth
& the sex is sublime each time. Nothing
to need or long for anymore — & I have
never been this lonely.
~~~~
Laure-Anne Bosselaar is a Belgian-American poet, translator, professor, and former poet laureate of Santa Barbara, California. Her collections of poetry includeLately: New and Selected Poems (Sungold, 2024).
Copyright 2024 Laure-Anne Bosselaar
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Another wonderful poem from you, Laure-Anne full of your word play and artistry.
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I hope it isn’t too late to get on the conga-line of lovers of yet another wonderful poem by Laure-Anne!
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Hahahaha.
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Wow to such a poem in its brilliance in understanding the human heart and ache of grief
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love it! The last line is a wonderful shock.
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There are two things that really strike me about this lovely little poem: first, that the after-life is really inclusive! There’s no list of holy-holy-only characters. Instead, it’s anyone/everyone, and it’s a come-as-you-are (were?) party. Then, that last line. Truth.
Brava! I’m keeping this one in my mind-pocket today.
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Thanks, Carlene!
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Enjoyed this poem very much, thank you Laure-Anne
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Yes, the last line does the magic of turning, surprising, and yet being exactly what you knew and didn’t know you knew. It’s wildly, fantastically human. Oh, Laure-Anne!
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Thank you, dear & kind Hayden!
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Thank you all for your kind comments on my postcard-sized poem today — and allow me to gladly grab this occasion to thank you Michael, and you most talented and admired friends for another year of such fine poems & essays!
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This postcard-length poem draws the reader in with what feels like joy, then punches us in the gut. Laure-Anne Bosselaar strikes again! Brava!
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Two poets, two matching thoughts. Mine is longer but comes to the same conclusion. Love this short, tight poem. From my poem ‘NEW YEAR’S CELEBRATION IN AMSTERDAM’: Loud laughter, ” ‘Auld Lang Syne’.Kisses, hugs, shrieks and ‘Gelukkig nieuwjaar!’ I stood and watched, lifting my glass.I had never felt more alone.”
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That last line…
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Laure-Anne’s poem is a lesson in what one can achieve in just a few lines—in this one, what many ofus couldn’t in a hundred lines! Thank you, Laure-Anne!
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Love this, love the internal contradictions of it. I get it.
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Laure-Anne is a master of subtlety.
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Most enlightening postcard from the after life I’ve ever read. I would have guessed it would be sent to Laure-Anne.
I’d heard rumors that the big problem was getting the water temperature in the debauchery fountain just right for everyone. Now I know the real issue. Personally, I’d rather hold infinity in the palm of my hand. Sunday was the right day to post this poem.
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Interestingly, I read two fine poems about afterlife this morning. The other one by Elizabeth Burk. Thank you, Laure-Anne and Mike.
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Thank YOU, John.
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”yokels, Popes, madams and Nobels” is brilliant, but that ending, is such an insight.
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Isn’t it, though?
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Wow! A stunning poem!
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Such an unusual poem from our favorite poetry soul. It sounds about right, save I was hoping rather to be some sort of irresolute bundle of energy, zipping around the cosmos amid all that star-stuff—Neal DeGrasse Tyson says we’re made of—the big telescopes out there send us pictures of that get posted on Facebook frequently. It would all be a fabulous movie that doesn’t end. I’d even look forward to throwing myself down a black hole, just to see what might happen; already too late to kill me!
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love this
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I do too, Yongbo.
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Bravo! That last line…
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The last line turns the poem around, doesn’t it?
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