Sometimes I wonder whether
my watery eyes or my knee ache
is because I kicked out the crutches
from some poor lass or was a good runner
who cheated. The light keeps blinking
like cat in a bag drowning after my father
driving away from his wife, my mother
losing her license, my brother
unable to breathe at the end.
The whole bathroom sinking.
Giving us no other substitute.
A spyglass hoping to be evident.
A curl in the middle of a book
separating the epic tug after we’ve
been digging through the music.
God, sometimes I wish I’d be
forgiven long enough to sit down
on the rock I’ve been stitching
and convey the worn reason
the remainder of the night
looks at us with labyrinthine
perplexion. Or the real remembrance
of things past and not some inability to translate
the title beats down on our canvas hearts,
but that is enough drumming for me tonight.