{"id":3137,"date":"2024-09-24T17:15:30","date_gmt":"2024-09-24T21:15:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/2026June\/?page_id=3137"},"modified":"2024-09-24T17:15:30","modified_gmt":"2024-09-24T21:15:30","slug":"issue-16-poetry-casaregola","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/2627\/issue-16-poetry-casaregola\/","title":{"rendered":"The Mummy’s Curse"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

by Vincent Casaregola<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

The one who found him
worked for the state\u2014an engineer
with DOT, inspecting bridges.
White helmet and yellow vest,
he\u2019d take his flashlight
in dark and hidden places
to check concrete and steel members
for cracking, spalling, and stains of rust.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beneath the span, he\u2019d often found
so much discarded, mostly trash,
but this was his first finding
a man, or what was left\u2014he
lifted the ragged edge of old
blue tarp, and curled beneath
was the old man, or seeming old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How can you tell at that point,
pale with age, illness, or both,
blue at the edges from cold,
a face taut with the restraint
of the slow frozen night?\u00a0 The image,
as if from a surreal painting,
would remain buried in the mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Curved into a final, fetal shape,
wearing an old, stained parka,
the lining puffing out from tears,
and a dark blue watch cap, ragged,
pulled down around the ears, he
seemed some lost sailor, recently
washed up from a deep grave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The EMTs found it hard
to move the body, tightly held
in its shrunken form, a closed fist\u2014
the skin had shrunk around bone,
\u201clike a mummy looks,\u201d said one,
with a brief uncaring laugh,
inured now to death in any form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The engineer shivered, backed off,
having found a crack he could not fix,
a problem closed but never solved\u2014
he quickly returned to work,
but the blue-white face remained,
frozen and silent, whenever he closed
his eyes or tried to seek his rest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From then, his dreams expanded,
and every night he saw a vast globe,
a child\u2019s rubber ball grown huge,
crisscrossed with infinite tiny cracks,
and each one held a woman or a man,
prisoners pushing against the weight
and pressure, losing breath, unable
to escape, or even to relax and die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Vincent Casaregola teaches American literature and film, creative writing, and rhetorical studies at Saint Louis University. He has published poetry in a number of journals, including 2River, The Bellevue Literary Review, Blood and Thunder, The Closed Eye Open, Dappled Things, The Examined Life, Lifelines, Natural Bridge, Please See Me, WLA, Work<\/em>, and The Write Launch<\/em>. He has also published creative nonfiction in New Letters<\/em> and The North American Review<\/em>. He has recently completed a book-length manuscript of poetry dealing with issues of medicine, illness, and loss (Vital Signs<\/em>) that has been accepted by Finishing Line Press.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by Vincent Casaregola The one who found himworked for the state\u2014an engineerwith DOT, inspecting bridges.White helmet and yellow vest,he\u2019d take his flashlightin dark and hidden placesto check concrete and steel membersfor cracking, spalling, and stains of rust. Beneath the span, he\u2019d often foundso much discarded, mostly trash,but this was his first findinga man, or what was left\u2014helifted the ragged edge of oldblue tarp, and curled beneathwas the old man, or seeming old. How can you tell at that point,pale with age, illness, or both,blue at the edges from cold,a face taut with the restraintof the slow frozen night?\u00a0 The image,as if from a surreal painting,would remain buried in the mind. Curved into a final, fetal shape,wearing an old, stained parka,the lining puffing out from tears,and a dark blue watch cap, ragged,pulled down around the ears, heseemed some lost sailor, recentlywashed up from a deep grave. The EMTs found it hardto move the body, tightly heldin its shrunken form, a closed fist\u2014the skin had shrunk around bone,\u201clike a mummy looks,\u201d said one,with a brief uncaring laugh,inured now to death in any form. The engineer shivered, backed off,having found a crack he could not fix,a problem closed but never solved\u2014he quickly returned to work,but the blue-white face remained,frozen and silent, whenever he closedhis eyes or tried to seek his rest. From then, his dreams expanded,and every night he saw a vast globe,a child\u2019s rubber ball grown huge,crisscrossed with infinite tiny cracks,and each one held a woman or a man,prisoners pushing against the weightand pressure, losing breath, unableto escape, or even to relax and die. Vincent Casaregola teaches American literature and film, creative writing, and rhetorical studies at Saint Louis University. He has published poetry in a number of journals, including 2River, The Bellevue Literary Review, Blood and Thunder, The Closed Eye Open, Dappled Things, The Examined Life, Lifelines, Natural Bridge, Please See Me, WLA, Work, and The Write Launch. He has also published creative nonfiction in New Letters and The North American Review. He has recently completed a book-length manuscript of poetry dealing with issues of medicine, illness, and loss (Vital Signs) that has been accepted by Finishing Line Press.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-3137","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t