i don’t know what to do,
sitting here,
dazeduncertainlyspaced,
eye-lids dropping,
feeling drunk
without having a drink,
light headed,
hoping to pass out soon,
escaping into an unremembered dream,
but nice nonetheless
and over too soon
when i once again awake
to start another long day,
another sixteen hours spent
looking forward to bed.

the last three months
have translated into
three funerals,
making me wonder,
will i go twelve for twelve?

on sunday
i watched my little girl run and play
then buckle and seize before my eyes

the fear that gripped me
the picture that will never leave
i’m sure would be poetic if i could
conjure it up with words

instead of mere shudders