There is a strong temptation to bolt the doors-
Bar the casements, withdraw the flags,
Shut the world out, using noise or flashing lights,
Or casino’s video screens,
Pile old lovers against intrusion like stacks of cord-wood
Paint over the shuttered, curtained windows,
With old cigar ash and the sweat of frustration.
Hide the secretive soul away, dammit.
Do you recall the taste of old bruises,
Know the name of every slight?
Can you feel the weight of years and acceptance
Can you know the strength you have yet to know?
Lie low, lie slow, breath as shallow as you might
But you must draw breath once more to live,
And tomorrow’s a decent bet, with better odds
Than finding surcease at the tables.
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