Thursday, February 5, 2015

Poem #37

Suicide at the lunch table
not the usual conversation
of food health politics planet

There was a voice
she said
a helpful voice
seductive, suggestive
It seemed so appealing
the way out

A quiet nap
that's what I saw
said the second woman
It was a good option
the only option
as I would never be any other way

And I thought of my own nights
of drunken despair
the relentlesness of addiction
I put the pills and the bourgon
on the table one night
yet was held back by uncertainty
not of the need to let go
but a question of completion
Would this be enough to do the job
to get me out?

A tenuous thread holds us to life sometimes
but it can be enough

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