Written Right Before the Attack

The water burns a delicacy into my wrapping—
The air is soft and the baby lemon towel
Rough against me—
Says stop your meditation, resort to imagination
Before it takes over your sleeping world
And claims it for its own.
Evenings lost in lavender fall
To manila melatonin, close and paintlike,
Out of reach.
This unworldly state disrupts me
But I don’t want to go home,
Frozen by the water
Knowing
Knowing
Knowing
Knowing
Knowing
Everything I’ve lost,
Everything I don’t know,
Is eighty years ahead.
Eighty years inescapable,
Eighty years away.
And I’d love to get lost in this world
If it didn’t seem even farther….