So.
An odd moment: the transition
from fearing for the world
and all I know of it
to being obsessed with
the numbness in my hand
and why it hasn’t ended
with a good night’s sleep
and how hard it’s going to be
to function until it’s gone…
if it goes…
if it goes…
at all.
Like a buzzard
who has been wheeling
and seeking
the dead,
like a buzzard
spiraling in
slowly from a great height,
certain only of
the fact of there being
something down there
that requires
greater attention;
how interesting,
this matter of
how the fear
that a short day ago
sang within me
in broad strokes
has shifted
to this small
humming
without missing
a note: the
same buzzard song
in a different arrangement.