|On breaking (revised)|
Numbed, dependent on the cocktail of carcinogens: nicotine and ethanol
If only loneliness came in tablets soluble in your drink.
Reliant, on the fag you clasp between two fingers,
Benson and Hedges Menthol, as always.
I can’t help but admire this sign of obstinacy, so near to incapacity
in every other way you seem frail, compliant
and I don’t recognise these traits in you, or rather you in them.
Living a life of recollections you populate the room with photos.
What’s this body? a glass prison that confines you
with walls that shatter too easily,
when you dare to walk a few steps, faster
a reminder, as if to say: Remember you are not young.
I can’t stand to see you in this state
the castration of your whole being.
The antithesis of my invincibility,
a reflection inverted, causing me to ponder the inevitable.
Now, as you spend Advent on the whitewashed ward
of a Melbourne hospital
a phone call asks if you’ve shuffled off this mortal coil
‘cause some one- time holiday friend had not received a Christmas card.
(comment on this poem)