Last Night

I woke up remembering dying last night a mosquito in my bed
Then, as if a shift occurred, other than my husband that is
Gave me more than redundancy, as if
My job was not done when I wanted it to be.
My legs and arms, the balm on my lips became, be it an angel
Or some strange spiritual matter braided two and two by four
Then hugged me tight while I took a piss, it was
The only moment I was alone, the stall.
Had I missed the thought to holler, to stop, to wait, to get on, to go?
The day turned year but it was different then, it was the beginning
Not the end.  I’ve been petrified since you see of missing it, as I always do
And just as I watched it leave, that was the moment that I decided death.
I lay down on the sofa, legs sprawled, smoked lips and hands
And felt the great tension of relief rise and fall, sinking
The air and sounds of the world muffled around the beat, beat, beat
Of my heart, the only thing ringing in my ears was dying.
Oh, what great joy to rest alone on one sofa cushion, thinking
goodbye tonight.
I woke up remembering dying last night a mosquito in my bed
Then, as if a shift occurred, other than my husband that is
Gave me more than redundancy, as if
My job was not done when I wanted it to be.
Instead, I got up and took a run around the pavement, trees
Pushed the air inside your lungs will stretch into something more than
Pity the man who I pass on the park bench, drinking beer at morning
You are my friend are me and I am you and I pass you by shifting, I
There is much to be said about the routine of living.
Putting your hands to mold meatballs or almond cake, combing a child’s hair
Your hands don’t know you were once an angel, they’re human hands
To pass on with words but with breaths and pauses, we pass on too.
I thought I had chosen this night but then again, you came holding me
Handing me life, don’t want it, handing me another day, for them
Dear Angel of light, twisting and turning on my left eye
Don’t come to my door if it’s not really time, please, come only if—
I woke up remembering dying last night a mosquito in my bed
And in the morning I made a promise not to write one more word unless
It flowered.  

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