Flip has flopped, face-down on his pillow
arms and legs sprawled out across my absence
in the bed
“Mercy now” he mumbles
wanting me to provide him relief
from the silence
by playing a song called, “Mercy Now.”
Sitting in front of the computer in the bedroom
in darkness except for the LCD screen
and the tiny stars of electronic buttons
I fumble with the keyboard and the mouse
to bring up the right playlist
I light a cigarette
and the last sensation of dreaming
drifts away with the first puff of smoke
I am always quitting smoking
And starting again when someone dies
It is my way of saying
“I want to be with you again soon.”
Such a shameful longing
I can't speak the words out loud
I just reach for slow poison, and cough
knowing I will quit again when I feel sick enough
And start again
when I've felt well for a while
because I've found this limbo in between living and dying
and never stray too far in either direction for very long
I like sleeping
I hate waking up again
and thinking again
of loved ones who are gone
and friends hell-bent for the finish line
as if they could outrun the fire on their backs
and others trying to crawl out of hospital beds
eyes wide open, fingers grasping
anything left they can reach in this world
because death almost never comes to those who invite it
death prefers those who fight
And so I am most awake while the rest of my world sleeps
My insides are sobbing
but I'm careful not to make a sound
louder than the clicking of this keyboard
and the requested music playing on low
I let Mary Gauthier speak for me
her sweet whiskey-sour voice asks the stagnation in my apartment
for Mercy Now.
Anna J Michener
February 22nd, 2011
