Swiftly and silently pieces of me
Are leaving me adrift, bereft
Unprotected. I wonder if there is
A thief in the midst of this, creeping
through my life. Perhaps there is a fence
Isn’t that one who sells stolen goods?
So swiftly and silently I am committing
what I can remember now to the stroke of
my pen which is not quite so silent.
In fact in my own hand, the scribbling scratch is
As loud as a klaxon. Perhaps the thief
goes to ground now, but the signal echoes
in the cavernous emptiness that seems left behind.
I am afraid to swiftly and silently shrink myself and go after this marauder who
cannot be seen at the macroscopic levels
lest I lose myself in my cavernous mind,
Swallowed whole like a pill in my belly
or throat or somewhere in between.
But it seems to me as if each blow is taking me down
Perhaps the fight is with myself
like a cancerous proliferation that will turn my trusted defenders against me.
Is it too late now to fight back
As swiftly and silently as I can take myself down
My actions have shrunk and seem ineffective