In the Dark at 73
The small slow hours still, as if
time has stopped without me
get a move on, daybreak. Tossing
and turning toss off?
oh, not at this late stage
of superannuated old age,
discreet twice-married man
in a bed shared with Herself
and her canine companion.
They breathe of innocence
and justice. In the dark
conscience stirs residue
of past faults committed,
good deeds omitted.
Shove off, darkness.
Wishing it were dawn?
as if the subjunctive
could be resuscitated;
wishing I had not waked?
if only that didnšt sound
deathwishy, halfbaked,
waiting for the dawn,
movement, anticipation,
setting the kettle to boil,
the morning paperšs distraction,
the radiošs light classics
presented by a friendly voice,
traffic on the move again,
the dark horizon
resuming its grey above green,
winteršs correctly stated tenses,
death sentences, life sentences.
Max Richards
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