Today's poem is by Charles Rafferty


Famous people have been dying all week and the Christmas tree just
stopped drinking. Talk about omens. It's impossible to get the venetian
blinds to stay level anymore. Everywhere I look, people are running the
errands they won't remember by this time tomorrow. I remember how,
years ago, I had to cut the fishing line caught in the high branches beside
the Mullica River, sacrificing the lure that put a kink in my neck as I
hunched over my own lap to tie it. I fear my wife will decide to spend
my last decade on earth with a better man. I fear I'll be a footnote to
somebody else's grandeur. I fear I'll die as painfully as I deserve. One by
one, the bulbs of the chandelier go dead above our dining room table. I
wish I could say the coming dark was taking me by surprise.

Copyright © 2017 Charles Rafferty All rights reserved
from The Smoke of Horses
BOA Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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