Juncture

 

Clam chowder bubbling

I stand witness to my own sustenance

Murky broth in jet-black pot

Mind lens reviewing microfiche

Old news read in holy silence

Passage through juncture

Felt in chilly kitchen

Turgid heart pumping like sacred spring

Lofting pot in aerial journey

As my hands grow feeble

Old age taking hold

In desolate vision

Former mate an overexposed negative

Dimming into past

Diabetic limbs flailing

Like an actor in a play

Mimicking epilepsy

My own character

Alone on the stage

With no audience

To boo the self conscious man

Awful quietude

Masked in murmuring

My voice wavering

Solicitous words annunciated

In syllabic desire