You live on a rectangular island
no bridges only a boat
of thin bones
often sinks leaves you drowning on your Tibetan throw
The waves rise, smother passwords, yesterday, PIN codes
There is no known Antidote
Today you made it to the far shore
ate a lamb samosa, drank a grenadine
over the kitchen sink
You even put on a shoe
looked at your reflection in the mirror by the door.
That’s as far as you got
Tomorrow you didn’t make it
Friends visited
Your words got stuck
like they sometimes do
your hands gestured with fingers clawed shut
You tried to explain the Problem
Your disease arrived in 2021
but unlike everyone
it didn’t stick in your lung
but in your brain
marooned you alone with no one
You missed their Boat
Your friends leave, disappointed
faces shut
they cross the ocean
your island shrinking
in the wake of their rising Sun
They are unlikely to sail back
That night you have a beautiful dream
It is not a dream that you are healed
It is a dream that you are believed