when i am overtaken

when I am overtaken

For L.

When I am overtaken
by the grand goodbye,
pierced by the last predator,
my heart’s hot heaving halted on a hill;

when my stumblefoot dance,
in dearth of direction,
dirges deathward;

when I am deemed redeemed,
expired, exhausted--
my past and future costed,
and a balance struck;

when every ruck and roil
and rant and reel of mine
is tasted,
my reams of paper wasted
on fledgling fires and forlorn
fields and flags;

oh, send me an ending
bending to the vertical,
abrupt and pure:

in full feather falling,
swift snap of spine in curling claw,
in monstrous mercy shaken,
when I am overtaken.

Or let me brunt the broad
wave’s wash in wonder,
eyes eager-open as I sink,
sucked under, seeking
the killer whale’s
wild welcome.

And if I am bred instead
for the bedstead-dead--
nicked by some sick thickening
in the art of arteries,
a blight of brain or
languishing of lung--

then let there be no
whinging weight of waiting,
no treacherous trade in tears:
tread on the towline
of my intubation,
with no negotiation.

Neither weep long,
but spin one pirate song
when I am overtaken.

And if sleep alone
overtakes me, breaks me,
weans me unwaking
from the breathful path;

if I ascend in air unshriven,
unforgiven,
riven with contradictions
and complaints,
at least know this:

I would not miss your kiss
for any mystery.
Whether we are
tethered together or no,
love, with your hand holding,
I would not gamely go.

Not by my willing will
are you forsaken,

when I am overtaken.



            (c) Tom Lips, October 26, 2017