In response to a blog request from my dear friend and extraordinary poet, Drew Myron, here is my very small offering located in her comments section :
What do you want? My Dan asks.
An Answer, I say, or at least another Aperitif.
Bananas for your Blood
Count, maybe. I’ll take that.
See? I’m Dusting things
For your lungs to breathe Easy.
Your Energy is low, I notice.
I’m still Gathering Hints Into Jewels
Of why this happened.
Cancer? Lung cancer?
Not even Maybe.
Not possible. Non smokers.
Not. Not. Not.
Oh, Oh, okay, Perhaps that one year
In your mid-teens, when
Performance equaled Quality,
And Risk equaled Sexiness.
Turn to now. Unwind. Unwind.
One small year inhaled.
Vexed? Of course, there’s no answer all these years later.
Why? Don’t ask, don’t Wonder.
X-Rays will say all gone, and
You will keep on, and you will become old.
Why? We will never know.
But, when we are old, and if I go first,
I promise to greet you,
In niche 22 at St. Mary’s Cemetery, next to
The statue of St. Francis of Xavier.
That is, of course, if I leave
This Zenith first. If you are first, however …
All bets are off.