cup

you have places to go, things to do!

taking a half-hearted jab at toughing it out

— can’t fool yourself like you used to,

you need to sit down. But still, you go round

its relentless corners, all the wrong-angles,

zig zags into crying jags, stop, you say, I need to stop!

sinking to the edge of the sidewalk,

this rock, softened in moss

— at last

something

to hold

onto

as if you

could stop

her passing

away,

drop

by

drop

distilled

— into hands cupped with sorrow.