Poetry By Melinda Coppola

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Stay

I want to dematerialize
and put myself back together
between his reedy young body
and the gun he stole
from his Uncle’s desk drawer
the night they 
invited him for dinner.

I want to land hard
between her hands--
the same hands that 
had just held
an acceptance letter
for the DC job of her dreams--
and the noose
she’d fashioned in secret
six months before.

I want to hitchhike
all the way back
to Vermont,
grab all those who knew him,
and beam us, every one, 
to the edge of that Hawaii
volcano where they said 
he’d jumped,
so we could form a human barricade
between his anguish
and that black hole.

I want to sing,
yell, cajole, say
it will get better
it can
I promise you

The world’s gonna need you
 next week, next year,
you’re gonna leave a hole
that can’t be filled

and somewhere there is 
someone you will meet
who will love you so much 
you’ll be wrecked to think
you could ever have left
before you crossed paths

and someday 
there’ll be a moment--
a car, a bike,
a wet road
distracted driver--
a child whose life
you will save

whose children 
will cure cancer.

Please,
I want to say
don’t go. 
Not yet.

Please,
let’s sit
and warm the ground
awhile.


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Melinda Coppola has been writing in some form for nearly five decades.  Her work has been published in several magazines, books, and periodicals including I Come from the World, Harpur Palate, Kaleidoscope, The Autism Perspective, Spirit First, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Welcome Home, and Celebrations. An artist, Yoga teacher and mom to an amazing daughter with special needs, she enjoys infusing her work of heart with her voice as a poet.

Melinda nourishes her creative spirit with singing, early morning walks, collecting and making art with beach stones, cooking, spending quiet time with her husband and daughter, and communing with her cats.