the making of a "Z"


i am older now, but no wiser.
i twist the cloth with both hands
until my knuckles turn bone-white
before i hang it on the shower door.
i sit naked on the floor,
watch a top stand as it spins,
fall when it slows down.
i am older now, it can't go on.
one day my stomach will dry up
in knots, hard and twisted.
one day my head will stop spinning,
my brain slide down my throat.
i am older now. should know better.
months pass as weeks once did,
fewer seem as memorable.
fewer things seem as important,
i am harder to surprise.
i am older now, but no wiser.
death lurks behind every tomorrow,
threatens to stop my “Z.”1
one day he will spring:
the ground will cradle me with cold, dark hands.
i am older now.


1 Zorro to his son: “You have to get in, make your ‘Z’, and get out.”

© Mark E. Dougherty