The Only Way Out

Like a cartoon Sherlock Holmes, I bend to look
At everything, a magnifying glass in hand.
Does someone's absence bring this sorrow?
No; all of my family's here. I'm undistinguished.
Does that matter? Doubtful; I'm just not ambitious.
Vengeful god? I don't believe, and, thus, I'm
Looking under blankets, turning stones, and pawing
Through six decades of existence in my effort
To discover why a pall, a shroud, lies over me.
A thousand pills have proved no use. A brace
Of knuckleheads with pens and notepads, couches,
Haven't helped. They ask the dumbest questions.
Home again, alone and wretched, clueless, beaten,
I give up and trade the glass which found no clues
For trusty opium.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 29 times
Written on 2021-08-23 at 00:51

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