i.
life is a string
slipping through our hands.
i pull it close, sometimes:
examine each fiber with
dizzying microscopy;
squeeze my eyelids &
melt the scene
over my mind--
when movement burns my hand,
i release it to its slipping path.
ii.
i ponder death, sometimes
to anticipate grief.
so in darker times,
when precious souls depart
for better shores, or worse,
i'll have a friend i know.
"sweet grief," i'll say,
"how good of you to stay."
april 30, 2014
