In god's day we blaspheme | And this is his Dance / Hiding in his Death Mask

In the mirror now,
what I see
reminds me
I won’t be here forever.


I don’t feel like
that face at all.
Inside it, I protest,
I’m quite different.


It’s somebody’s grandfather,
not me.


Whose grandfather is that?
I don’t want him.




Ah, memory, memory….
terrible,
to be losing
the words.




How do you get from here to there-
I mean, from where I am
to the nursing home?
In a snap of the fingers,
the blink of an eye.


Like my mother said,
as she was being loaded
into the ambulance,
It went so fast.




Life
a lazy buzz,
then
the quick sting.


A long inward breath,
then
the sudden
exhaling.

Edward Field

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