Things fall apart

— a Sonnet —

Photo by Bilal Bozdemir on Unsplash

This mourning moon comes out too soon
This unrest rids me of the zest for living
My insides squirm towards a common grief
An inside loneliness that strips me apart.
My body is dying, sentenced to death.
I know: despite this cavalier attitude, that I owe you
So much, the clouds are so vast and we are so small.
Yet I must prepare, for when I am not here, not there,
Not anywhere. Things do not go my way: sepsis, cancer
Grab at my life. I do not have the time for long words
I seek to connect with Sylvia’s jade horse under water
Such transparent seizings trouble me more
So many things at my fingertips that do not stick.
Anyway, all things fall apart, in this portico of time.