It’s not that I’m dying
now and it’s not that I am stuck lying
down. But even so something in me has
torn. I need a
remedy. A lantern lit boat pushed out to
sea. On a scrap of paper inside is
her name. It’s not that I would wish her
dead and I swear on my
soul I don’t. But when February comes I wish I
could be on that death boat. It started thirteen
years ago and it lasted till
last week. I have no one but myself to
blame for being far too meek. Even so I curse
the world. I grit and bear my
teeth. I dip my finger in the
pool it swirls I’ve been a
fool. The blood mixes in like oil
paints. It fades but is not
faint. I’m stuck and
cold this February. I reach for red
berries. My only drink is melted
snow. Drop the black curtain but
do it slow. Let me go hit the
light. You and I must surely know this show must end
tonight.