The Day I Don’t Wake Up

Photo-28

Eight of Swords from The Tarot of Why by Ron Campbell

Gouache, Graphitint, Watercolor and Ink on Paper

 


 

The Day I Don’t Wake Up 

 

 

The day I don’t wake up 

I won’t have to brush my teeth. 

 

The day the rigors of life give way to the rigor of mortis, 

The day the bacteria, held at bay by my thumping motor all these years hear in that last thump the signal to ravage 

I won’t have to return any emails. 

 

I won’t have to pay that bill 

Gas up that car

Check that calendar.

 

My calendar will be an ocean of ice.

Day after day of blank.

Day after day of me not being.

Ill have heard and made my last complaint

The day I don’t wake up.

 

The day I don’t wake up

I won’t have to go to the DMV.

 

The day the calcium ions of my body, deprived of oxygen,

Leak into the muscle cells and turn them into little fists,

And my capillaries bloom blue in the bag of me

I won’t have to fix a faucet or put on a tie.

 

Someone else will put on my tie

The day I don’t wake up.

 

I will not turn to dust

The day I don’t wake up.

For dust is dry and wet is death

Like life.

 

The day I don’t wake up

Is the day my poetic license expires.

 

 

 

 

 

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