I Fall Apart

I Fall Apart

After winning comes a little buzz.
And not long after a voice.
It starts to eat away,
not so much a humming as a drill.
There is this chorus doing
in harmony a thing about failure.
The doors start slamming shut,
the windows coming down.
My wife seems far, barely visible,
crying. Her hand is out
but I cannot reach it.
What is it, the chorus sings.
But it is nothing more than life,
complex. A cycle starts, then
a vision. It's not so gentle,
it consumes the landscape.
Silence in the terminal.
Fuel spills from the engine car.
Up on the hill, St. John's Basilica
lies in ruins. I read again
the letter my wife has sent.
You'd better change your ways,
you're using up some precious years.
Your heart is stopped, your hands
are in the pants of the devil.
You are a work of brilliance beat down.
I look up an see the storks atop
the stone columns. I know
that my inability to control myself
has put confusion to bed in the house
or marriage. Even the heart's love
is unable to end the stall.
I sense a glass of tea being put down
on my table, while a scan of my inner
surroundings reveals a man in crisis,
an arm reaching out to write down
a line. The energy of prayer from
the mosque adjacent does not reach him.
Nothing reaches him now
but a lust
for freedom.

Barry Tagrin

from "Collage of the Soul".