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February 28, 2018

The isolation embraces.

It is an endless embrace.

It embraces all.

I see all …. my window ….

There is no need to live all.

I see all …. my bed.


The forced end of isolation.

I see an end.

I lose days.

I lose weeks, or so it seems.

My bed, another world.


Somehow, I’m not alone.

Keys in doorways.

The cries of children.

For the sake of children …. no.

I live alone. I am alone.

Somehow, I leave: I left.


When will it all end.

Will somebody call for me.

Will somebody come for me.

I doubt. I doubt greatly.


This anxiety. A vertigo.

Head spinning, like a clock.

Days pass. I remain.

The world turns, apparently.


He. Doctor. He. Soothes wounds.

I have none. Doctor says.

No longer accepting’ …. ‘doctor’.

Doctor two. Doctor too.


Outside. Freezing winds.

A work to be performed ….

. unable. Never able.

We speak of our ills.


Your first name’ ….

A question mark follows.

Some miscomprehend.

He is how old, your child.

Pertinent questions.

I’ll see you later.

I’m at home here.

Not at all. I’m fearful.


A shopping bag. A crossed leg.

Uncrossed. White shoes.

You are …. a name follows.

A telephone rings.

We wait to answer.

Are you already a patient?

I’m extremely patient.


My head feels rotten.

I’m far from home.

Home, where I feel.

Still, I’m lost.

A man’s voice.

A woman’s deep breath.


We feel the cold.

Even from within, the cold.

Barely ill. Doctor calls.

We call doctor.

He speaks. She sniffs.

She coughs …. horrid.


Sometimes we’re faced by this.

Horrid imagery. We bear it.

Walking on streets. We bear it.

Clean white shoes. A telephone.


This afternoon. It’s this morning.

It’s noted. He’ll be absent.

He’ll be late.

From frozen shut doors.

They call.


A wind blows.

My head turns.

I see lines. Only.

They’re a blur.


I hear heavy, sweet breaths.

I hear a weak man’s voice.

I hear no protest.

Ah, to prescribe oneself.

A dream. I prescribe bed rest.



My door’s closed.

My blinds are drawn.

My eyes are shut.

I see nothing.


Holidays well spent.

Which doctor. He who welcomes.

He who is still alive.

A ringing. An opening.

No words. These are for love.

There is no expression.


Me, I’m locked within.

I feel death.

A living death.

A sorrowful death.

An abandoned life.

An abandoned wife.

I know. I abandoned no one.


Christmases alone.

Did I choose this?

I abandoned some.

I have no regrets.

Why regret?

Why fret?


Your plays on words, joyous.

Your flick of the wrist, skilful.

I never guessed it.

I never see it.

I never saw before me.

I never called your bluff.

Here I am.

Cold, and alone.


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