eye floaters…

 

as
the years
went by
he
swore
that
he could see
the strings
that
tied
him
to this earth
pass
by
his eyes
fibers
of
his
fading memories
translucent
ties
to yesterday
that
no one else
could
see
sometimes
full
fragments
of
time
would float
into
the ether
as
he stood
helpless
as
all
aging observers
of
death’s arrival
those
were the times
when
well-meaning practitioners
of
the healing arts
would
say
he was
despondent
tho
he heard them
he
chose not
to
explain
the nearness
of
death
to those
with
the light
of
hope
in their eyes

 

powerless to stop it…

 

there’s always
an antiseptic smell
before
death
as if
we truly
believe
we might
cleanse death
from
our being
it’s
a fragrance
of
age
we know it
all
too well
from
nursing homes
and
hospital halls
but
sense it
even as
we walk
along a city street
it makes us
most sad
when
a passing child
has whiffs
of
death
we wonder
why
and
where is
god
but are
soon distracted
by
armani
arden,
or
fresh-baked goods
until
when naked
in
the shower
we
find
that
fragrance

 

a question for emmy…

when there is no face
in the mirror
will physics’ law
of
conservation
of
energy
be
confirmed
or
will
there be
no
me

 

too late to not change…

rushing
to the window
as
the floor
gives way
beneath you
you struggle
to peer
into
tomorrow
but
find
frosted windows
nothing
to see
but
your cold breath
dancing
in the air
and tho
you
know
you
must leave
you
shout
like a child
who’s nightlight
is out
hoping
some parent figure
will appear
and
take your hand
guiding you
through
life’s
darkened
portal
the future