The Collected Poems of Steve McRoberts
The Collected Poems of Steve McRoberts
  Suicide Note #5

The time has come
and I'm alone.
It's all right;
Time says it's all right
as I crawl back inside
its historic arms.
And time's a gift you gave to me:
there was a moment when I saw you:
the first tick.

Before that,
they asked me to:
    dance without legs,
    laugh without a smile,
    think without a mind,
    live without love.

Back then I dreamed of you.
Back then the sky was always black,
the birds did not fly,
I was alone and cold
without the strength to cry.

Out of wishes you appeared
and gently took my hand,
breathing words of sweet love.
Your sighs pricked the sky
and all the stars showered down.
All things grew wings
and sailed beneath the whispering sun.

We dreamed together.
Sometimes our astral selves
paraded across the cosmos
while streams of light-bodies:
sparked essential truths,
and down our blue selves
marshmallow dreams escaped:
mini-fogs around our feet:
to mingle with the rails of infinity.

And now you're gone
and I'm alone.
It's all right;
the Night says it's all right.
And the night seldom cracks anymore
spilling its ancient intestines
upon my bed;
I had a doctor fix it!
Now it only groans slightly
as I fall into Time's embrace
deep inside of it

the six A.M. dog barks
and I didn't die again.
I recall your eyes
and curse your gift
shaking a fist at the daytime's
iron sky with


             dead birds

frozen in mid-air.

The day is here
and I'm alone.
It's all right;
the Day says it's all right.
Its belly sings forevermore
of painful truths:
ax-and-sandpaper reality:

"It was notlove."

I plead with tears and words,
and all-night talks, and inside-jokes,
with midnight dancing,
with bedside manners,
and thick and thin,
and thought and touch...

"It was notlove,"

Day yawns a gaping mouth,

"for all of that, it was notlove."

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