You are afraid to shut the front door
it is an unblinking eye to the living
you are attached to a virus, like a fly
stuck firm in ointment, will
be claimed slow and sure
by its urge to escape, it shall
sink deeper and knowing this, you
refuse to close away the day, but
by standing against urging cold air
feeling labored breath of all those
who maintain and climb their days into years
by the touch of their effort, and the rise and fall
of that buoyant world
you shall rejoin the wheel as it arcs and spins
counting down our mortal pieces
such as we are, labored by knowing
how fragile the shimmer of life
yet, not yet, yet
we are still
afloat
