Two Months

Two Months

Wring it out, my soul,
Wring it dry of melancholy molasses, oozing gently and unrelenting.
Sticky sweet tears drip drop drip.

Hang it up, my soul.
Hang it up where dark corners lie, where cobwebs threaten softly.
I have done with it.

Can you see?
Threadbare and worn, coarse and frayed where it has dragged along pavements,
It is of no use to me now.

Leave the fall leaves falling, oh, leave me soulless,
If only for awhile,
Until the drip drop stops.

Then give it a spin, whirling dervishes,
Crank the dials, cycle: dry.
Then a coin drops clink and the whirling begins.

Are you there, soul,
Or have you done with me as well, left behind like a lone, holed sock.
Leave me, soul, please

But don't leave me behind.

*22mar03*