I'm going to fix it.
They say the tango takes two
but I waltz alone
and today--it really must be today.
A long time coming--
Like the glaciers of eons
freezing all in their path
with chilling doom.
Awakening entangled in linen,
Despair's victory grasped in her upraised fist.
I lie immobile
casting about inside to assess what remains,
summoning the strength for a teary, sweat-stained
hand-over-hand climb to that rocky crag.
Time and tablets are healers.
Washed down with one sip
And in ten days or a week or two or three,
the wistful blues in the mirror, anxious chewed lips,
uncertain, pale and ever-thinning countenance
will be just a reflection of memory.
Jagged, rust-encrusted edges
of the gaping rent
smoothed out and filling in like Mishe Mokwa
eroding into the freshwater sea.
False hollow laughter
through the Dungeon's catacombs echoes away--
Distracted glances at the door--
Shadows crossing my countenance like boxcars of memory--
All soon relics of this earthbound purgatory.
Lines and laughter, a golden season
pressed under glass...
A roulette wheel, the roller coaster,
slowed and tamed at last.
Every mountain and hill brought low.
The depths become shallow.
And will I remember you?
And will I remember this?
And will I remember?
And will I?