clotting into a thick mass

dread drops like cottonwood fluff

throughout the soft afternoon

I cannot breathe this darkness

too many knots of decay

to choke like thorns down my throat

each morning I spit a bit

then find scraps of redemption

as I stumble out the door

a new day’s dark-red dawn blurs

a simple numbness unfolds

inevitable and cold

I gasp and look to the sky

hopeful I will breathe today

(November 30, 2017)