Melancholy slides
over me
like a satin slip.
A gray day
in a house with
no fireplace,
time charging
into winter.
There is nothing
I can do
to slow it down
to something
I might manage,
my only salvation,
this very moment.
I had intended
to arise today
in the pursuit
of greatness,
but find myself
at the kitchen sink
getting stains
on my new shirt,
my first cold
of the season
muddling my mind.
I decide I need
a master plan,
a list of lists,
just to clear
my head of these
erroneous details.
A few words
come to me,
I grab on to them
and hold on for dear
life, this very dear
life slipping away
from me,
like a satin
slip sliding
to the floor.