Death of a Ventriloquist

Self-Portrait as a Word Ending in E

40 Self-Portrait as a Word Ending in E Tell me why certain kinds of noise— wood snapping to embers, a river’s drift—always bring ease. You know me: the lone guy screaming inside his car in traffic, snapping so easily out of ease. Last night I knocked over a handmade vase (wedding present, another hundred pieces) with such ease. Hugged a rock ledge, crawled under a pine and found the long path gives its own sore, wet, and splayed ease. Sleep fits too much breath into too little space—it’s painful to listen to a body fight for ease. Ask me if I know what clatters inside the line; a rhythm brings the mental hamster to its ease. I’ll never know what causes the noise— crazy white man, son of some Gilbert, always in need of ease. ...