Poem about n i p

 Already half the May gone, 

not so far from resolution–

for four months isn't far. 


Six decades long habit

has grown old in the body, 

touched ground, turned soft. 


I have been practicing reclination. 

supine, for when they box me in

the corpse mustn't revolt. 


Nothing to be done now

of all those procrastinations. 

You are gone; they, as good as gone! 



Comments

BP said…
I can relate to the sentiment. But dont mind a little bit of mirth and hope...
13 May 2026 at 17:17
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