Sunday, December 11, 2011


In the end, it was nothing more than hubris.
Why should I surpass Odysseus
in managing to flee my fate?

I bragged.
Sure, I'm sluggish.
Yes, I'm eating all the wrong things
and plenty thereof.
Me and the squirrels outside my window.
Fattening ourselves up for winter survival.
But no depression.
Not me.
Not this year.


Like the sadist himself, SAD is a predator, watching his prey, gauging vulnerability, watching for the little drops of blood left like breadcrumbs by the unseeing victim, complacent in her seeming safety from the worst of his tortures. He plays with her, swatting her across the floor, leaving little scratches while holding back from the last hard blow to the head before sinking his teeth into her jugular.

He knows just the right spot.
He pierces it year after year,
sucking out her soul,
deadening her eyes.

He knows she'll rise again in Spring.
But the wounds never wholly heal.
And unlike the cats
who mourn the loss of each mouse killed,
he knows he'll have his favorite prey
to play with once again come Fall.


after year

after year.

The Solstice can't come soon enough.


Alice said...

My sympathies. The solstice is just around the corner. Move fast and keep your nose down in the meantime. Alice.

Florida Dom said...

Hope you are coping well as you await the arrival of the solstice. Good luck.