Missing Nothing

Did I miss something?  Woke
to a mouth filmed in blood
and a rude stomach.  Woke
to swift stumbling to the bathroom
and pain, first dull then sharp.

Did I miss a mystery?  Some doctoring
seems in order, but I wonder
where the body went wrong
down some dark alley of nutrition or
worse, metastasizing into this material dread.

I suspect it’s always one molecule that does it
for each of us, entering us, changing us within
and starting to kill us. It may take years to finish.
We may miss that mystery’s beginning
but are always there at the end

with clues like iron blood
on the tongue as fatal secrets
begin to rail
against us
elsewhere inside.  There will be

more mornings like this,
and fewer mornings to come
than have come already.  It’s cold
in here, though it’s still summer
on the calendar and early on the clock.