If death implies life then get started livingyou intone, or at least I think that was youchanting sagely, though in the pale of morningI’ve forgotten my dream. Heavy from the moodof the thing not recalled, I heave from blackto the brittle green-grey of before-dawn, leavethe room of regret for a spell best utilizedwisely because penitence piles up like frail leavesthis month, whirling around thirsty heads, dizzying,decomposing as it spins. Was it really you whisperingacross the bends, reeling an incantation, expectingme to receive and comprehend? Yeah? Join me, then,in a cup of black coffee and folding the towels,ruminating, ruminating what’s already been swallowed.
#18 of 30 Poems in November to benefit Center for New Americans!