Joseph Nicks

Through A Window

 

you can see it in the distance,

as clear as it ever was –

the horizon slipping

over the horizon

 

like pixels fizzled out

in the mosaic

of every portrait,

every landscape

you’ve laid eyes on

 

like notes plucked

indiscriminately

and discarded

one by one

from the melodies

of every song

you’ve treasured

 

like hope now giving way

to consolation

in those agonizing days

of post-diagnosis

and pre-dementia

where consciousness

writhes and twitches

on the stony cold frontier

of no tomorrow

with the timeworn

fog of ages rolling in

 

dulling all the edges

and robbing every shape

of its distinctness

until everything goes blurry

and translucent