By A Jessie Michael
I awake to a wake, (my very own it seems) Of people familiar and not, Unaware that I am awake at my wake. What have I left in the wake of my awake life- A speed boat existence Swirling a lengthy, frothy wake? How many were drenched by The spray of my life’s wake? I never turned to see Too busy awake to the things before me Now they reminisce, drink, smoke and snack To keep awake at my wake. “Go home. Sleep!” I say But to them I’m not awake. They keep awake at my wake To celebrate me dead. Where were they When I was truly awake? “O we were there,” they chatter. “We were drenched by the wake Of your speedboat existence. Were you truly ever awake?”
A. Jessie Michael is a retired Associate Professor of English from Malaysia. She has written short stories for online journals, local magazines and newspapers. She has published an anthology of short stories Snapshots, with two other writers and most recently her own anthology The Madman and Other Stories (2016).
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