Three Weeks Hence

I'll be a fair approximation of the rascal I once was
When I'm out of the hospital. In time, this nagging fear
Will ebb. My heart, no longer its own master, will beat
To established rates, and I will, I assume, be able to do
What I've always done. I'll dash across those tile
Floors. I'll heave those bottled water cases into little
Towers in the proper aisle's bottom row, and I will
Single-handedly subdue those weighty shelves
And tables, and, if I find you alone, I'll leer at you.
I'll call you "darling," and I'll search your face, which
I know you will try to keep impassive, for the signs
That you, in fact, are glad this rascal's back.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 84 times
Written on 2017-06-08 at 02:08

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