I see a distant flash of light and think
about her eyes, blue aurora at night,
feel flaming wind within me. Should I drink
to intensify this moment or fight
its mystifying flight? What’s my excuse
to break open a case of chaos one
more time? Is it my will calling abuse
a lover, or ancient craving alone
pushing me from my cell phone, stumbling toward
that fateful glass? I perceive some power
rushing me to my knees, fantasize swords
gashing my bowed head, sense bloody shower
across my carcass and carpet. I stare
inside flinching closed lids, whisper a prayer.
Roger Armbrust
March 11, 2010
