The End of the Line

Today is the last

Day I take breath and gasp.

This life was not easy.

I made a mockery of my health

And carved the turkey before the guests arrived;

And stuffed myself–

Tearing the last quarter from limb,

Savoring a childhood remembered,

But chewing the bones dismembered.

I now look at my reflection–

The fowl juice dripping from my gaunt chops.

I weigh the stillness of the night

As a tear falls

From one eye protruding.

The night has come and

My reflection dims.

But the bones . . .

The doorbell rings–it’s company calling–

They’re here for the moment

But I crave the bones–

Stacked upon another outside the door–

I lick my lips and pause

One last time in front of my double

As dusk falls on the house.

But he craves one more fixin’

Just South of his eternal North.

While I watch in introspection,

He opens the door and

Pulls a knife from his pocket.

Wailing into the mounting darkness–

A cry, a sound that sent

The creature to the ground.

The guest he’d craved–

Made him eat his words

And hate his neighbor.

As the wind flew from his lungs,

He plunged the knife into his throat–

Cursed his life–

And himself for taking

All that he should have given.

Wasting all these years

Just to meet that fated gathering

And eat the whole meal himself.

When you reach the end of the road

And there are so many memories–

You feel the resignation in your heart

And you pull at it

But can’t find a pulse–

You’re at the end of the road.

You must have lost your way.

You are alone–

And you still believe

That loves comes in with fits and starts

And patience begs her back again.

EPILOGUE

Before the winter of this year,

I saw myself for the first time.

I didn’t like the reflection–

What I thought could be true–

And so I hid myself inside the lie.

You cannot see a bird soaring

In the open sky

If you have never been locked

Inside a prison–

Shackled over time within the loneliest of places–

Your mind.

There must be more at the end of line.