Friday, November 27, 2015

sick [2010]

I've not much of a cough anymore
and the fever has receded
but sick still?  yes quite

sick to my blood
coursing corrupt through us
a poisonous divide

sick to my eyes
swimming in syrup shadows
witnessing mutations of hate

sick to my flesh
necrotizing months now
peeling off in thick fetid layers

sick to my soul
without a music to follow
the metronome broken

sick to my core
a slow rot upon my kindness
an affliction of the nerves
I am sick with it all
all of these and those and them
in my breathing well 
I can just make out faint echoes of
                 the loons of 1982
                 the rasp of my Grandfather's laugh
                 the rumble of the neighbor's muffler
                 and a profound cacophony 
                 of me

this is not terminal

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