Slipping Away.

For Kelly Masuda. I’m so sorry. Sing with Chado, please.

I knew you were slipping away.
You told me.
You were telling me.
And I listened
As well as pretended to listen.
While I was so self-absorbed
with my own
slipping away.

And while you were slipping away,
you asked for so little,
but just a little for me to
be present.

But I, making so many
absent promises,
kept slipping your call.
And I, for all the good it does,
can promise now,
now that it’s too late,
now that you’ve
slipped away,
I had every intention, but I guess
those promises and intentions,
like you, like me, just kept
slipping away.

Today is the Day

Waking from inside, a shuffling step outside leading
You, a stranger, among the preoccupation of living
As it has always been
From the dark of the door behind, your toes touch light who
Encroaches brazenly, shamelessly, over your threadbare socks
From a warm sky. And the things born there are singing
As they always were
But hearing them now, the lyrics seem to suggest it is now time;
It is okay; it is safe; it is meet; it is time;
For you to return to life.
Looking back into the dim cavern, sunblinded to be obscure
The Siren’s counter slithers out on a slow tendril beckoning
Urging recant and return
To the shelter that has kept you snug, to where you are a rabbit
Caught firm by its burrow lined with all things of its own making
Wrapped in reassuring isolation, worry that protects from worry;
Loving, stagnant familiarity.
Returning, you think maybe today is that day as the door
Softly shuts, truncating the trailing hem of bright softness
The dress of the sun caught in the jamb, but no complaint
Heard from without troubles you as the socks retrace steps
A hermit trail well trod from the kitchen to the couch and into
Sentinel blankets’ waiting embraces.
Slipping beneath fortifications of fleece that stand guard over
Well-formed depressions, comprising the die to cast your ghost
A perfume of laurel and Sunday dresses, and just a hint of sunblock
Having followed you in
Dances by your nose. Hiding there under coffee stained banners
Behind parapets with prepaid postage bearing proudly your name
With the remote clutched tightly to your chest, you murmur again
Maybe today is the day things will be different.

Free

Find peace in a life of quiet failure,
Unfettered
By the sanitary blinders of happiness.

True Love is Knowing

My contribution to National Poetry Month.