A thick malaise slurs

the day with inarticulate

desires. There is nothing

but dissatisfaction beneath

each prime move. He slips

about the house finding solace

in unread books, in thoughts

of what he might have done.

The pointed questions come:

Why he dawdles over trivialities?

Why he quakes a pauper to his ideals?

Will the last glass of wine be his cause?

Will the safety of his status quo

be the death and guilt of all?

(June 18, 2018)