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Friday, May 22, 2020

Morning in America

Morning In America

On the edge of a bed
facing the window
open to the sound of day
construction on the highway
distant sirens chasing
or rushing to some scene

The images of my mother
and her sister
begin to dissipate
and the urgency of cleaning
the carpeted floor
where a broken mirror
and  light bulb fragments
have me spinning
from dreamland catastrophes
these two siblings created
Worry of injured feet
have my vanishing thoughts
joining this world
rather than the imagined
visitation of specters

I begin to push aside the night
to once again isolate
from all I know 
and have known
to escape an illness
just being in my home
doing the dishes
taking my pills
realigning the cans
in my cabinets
throwing away the useless
as I realize how useless I am
producing little nothings
at the edge of language

It takes the music of Glinka
to spin me up
from this reverie
to go on
into my day
as if I had value
locked in a cage
behind my prison walls

Where are you?
You have never 
come to visit
You are the only one
I would let in without
a mask
to protect me
from the one thing
I sometimes desire
So I wait for you
reminded of our days
and how few they were

All this from the edge
of a bed
as the curtains breathe
in and out
the lung of my house
unaffected by the disease
currently in fashion

Barry G. Wick

Sunday, May 10, 2020

The Switch

The Switch

I found myself searching
for the switch
to turn myself off
giving myself
to the universe
for all time
I'd close my eyes
throw my head back
relax every muscle
only to fail my desire

This comes from loneliness
and the need for touch
A kiss or a hug
from someone who loves me
each of us unable to live
without the other
How can I find this person
in an age of isolation
topped by fear
of all joy

I know what this is
in depth of soul
It has come over me
before surrounded
by millions in a big city
more people
than my entire home state
where family was known
and I was welcome
before I changed my image

The search for the switch
ends at the wall
I try to penetrate
only to realize it will visit
when it is good and ready
on a day I will not choose
in an hour
when I will lose
the chance to turn off
the road of no return

I require no help
to stop my dark feelings
since there are reasons
to stay with this world
the continuation of atonement
for what others
call my sins and shortcomings
I dream each day
for an end to shame
life's gratitude can cease

Barry G. Wick