poem

 Lady Macbeth

Just the day before 

He thanked me for saving 

His life

But that was before

He began to bleed again

And the finely crafted repairs

Began to leak again

And before I could begin

To try again

I thought to myself

    he spoke too soon

Afterwards, you take

Your sadness and regret

And you sit with it

As long as it takes 

And you’ll know enough 

Time has passed 

When you've cycled

Through the roles

Of judge, jury and executioner

Of the part of you

That has to die

So the rest can live.

This is when you must

Grab a shovel

And try to bury it,

All by yourself,

Under the yellow moon.

When it’s done

You have to stand

There and wait for the sun 

All that remains is an

Aching back and your 

Dirty blistered hands

6/27/23