Saturday, July 4, 2015

And Now, Further West

If delirium
broke
like fevers

if this rabid
scrambling
of insidious want

became logically
sane

If rationale
turned its gaze
to awake effervescently

on a bright spring morning

without succumbing
to dark
winter mourning

if your name was

I’m Here

and

To Stay

was more than a melting
block of ice
with no shade
in the black June sun

in the blacker June regret.


Then you could buy me
three months of calm

before the panic
inevitably crept back up

my amygdala.