If ever there was a time, it is now

If ever a wandering, it was then

If I’d known the heft, I might not have set out

If I’d known that weight and weightlessness would contend

For a prime spot each dawn, wedged in my chest

For the headliner, once wrapped in the sheets

For the right to make a strange choice of dress

For the chance to give or to withhold sleep

So you ask me about the sorry end,

So you ask about this end

So you ask as the day fades, the light dims,

So I say the words again

I couldn’t get it right,

day after day, night after night,

We couldn’t get it right,

Year in, year out, crosshatching doubt