Leaving Eve

–no not the person
But the time
Here at the verge of purging
Jettison to parts unknown
Edging an Undiscovered Country.

See Sis is sick
We seek a cure
Her illness being human;
She sleeps & slips beneath the door
In silhouette feign fading.

This is not a trial separation
This is not a trial separation
This is not a trial separation
(my wife makes me repeat it)
Tho tis a suicide mission–
This is how the whurld wends:
Not with a dearth-shatnering kaboom
But something summat simpler.

Imagine if you will
A quotidian spayship
Controls set for the Sun
Dad sits sweating
Meanwhile Sis rolls in the hold
Suffering her tremens
Too delirious to dream
Except the next exquisite fecund second
& the next the next the next
Strings together these zodiac moments
Same as stars.

Because forget the rainbow
Exile City was too much
That chrome crept in her blood
Till the clubs closed
& the day wave rose
Found her gagging in a cab
Begging to begin again
A quiet voice over the phone.

Which is where I’m found bound
Night before the night before
A vast expanse of empty space
My own recovery barely dry–
Not the hero she needs
But the hero she gets
Due to hamartia of her birth
Fatal flaw as father.

See us flee the gravity
One possible outcome;
Thrill as we fly the multiplex
Till human vices overtake us
Or else we wake in Mayberry
Lost in reruns all along.

Heading south this morning, back to the smalltown that flung me. I’ve got to get this kid out of the City before she self-destructs. Tune in tomorrow for another underwhelming episode of the Quiet & the Desperate.