The Slippage  

From the brew of my youth I spat with foul tongue and fast loins;
My path strewn with whiskey and fear, my head too stalled for living.
I stumbled through the alley of my days – my reflection on every sewerdrain,
My bootsoles forward hastily, my fists as useless as prairie rafts.
Moonlight strewn across female bellies tumbled into the noir behind my eyelids and I laughed as I sneered and later wept in the rain.
For my missteps I couldn’t help but laugh and be frightened;
I congratulated the one who had dome it all,
The one who steams the mirror and reflects in the polished spoon.
And as a wave is not such if it never breaks,
I sank on shards of drink and self pity
And plunged naked in my ruin.
But my love,
Life is a sweet tragedy to be brought to the lips
As water is brought from the sea to the glass;
As flame is merely light until it singes a shirtsleeve.
Then,
From beneath the bandaged wing of night
I fell into woman’s arms and screamed loud to the old man inside my young flesh –
“Maiden, sing fast, for morning creeps and tomorrow cannot be without tonight!”
my love,
I have searched for sutures when I needed blood
I have doused flames with kerosene
I have stood at the terminus with intent but no currency.
I hold fast to my dying bed, my love.
I will not weep at the final velvet,
For the dream that is my string of days
Is short and frayed at both ends
And is framed with dirt and clover.
The stirred life,
The irradiated spirit,
The broken back,
The crushing defeat.
From the brew of my now,
I hold fast to you my love,
I hold fast to your body,
As it slips slowly away.

© 2006 Mike Gravel