I wonder —
will you see this poem?
Are you the “late J” even as I write?
How I wish I’d had these words, J, earlier today.
What threatens us
What causes us to contemplate that final taboo
(the last option)
No getting around it.
What keeps us here
What stays the trigger finger
halts the hand holding the pills
puts the foot on the brake
So very small!
A promise made to a student to recheck his work
A pang of guilt –who will take my classes?
A book borrowed and not returned
A craft project not quite finished —
by such slender threads as these
are we kept on the stage of life,
the Big Thing notwithstanding.
I hope I see you tomorrow.