In the moment

Two weeks and the doctor’s
prescription does not seem
to have worked…

You walk all day in the sun
and try to do the things
you are used to doing,

and which you call work or routine,
except for the constant, low-level
buzzing under your skin.

You wake in the middle of the night
from a burning sensation— an itch
in the groin, dull throbbing

temples: what is it? What’s set
the little cells ablaze? Why
are they no longer happy

to be fed bread, coffee, soup,
strawberries dipped in cream?
Your joints creak like a boat

left too long in water; knees
swell like cantaloupes, dull
with too much sugar

or salt or ill humor. Is this
what it means to crest the middle?
If so then perhaps you’re

better off taking that long-
deferred vacation, pouring cereal
into your heaviest piece of china.

Use the gifts of wine and scent,
the embroidered scarves someone
sent you from overseas. How

is it better to choose austerity
over the extravagance of using
it all up now, while you can?

 

In response to Via Negativa: Revision.

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