Bucket List
she stood on an empty bucket with a tight noose around her neck
when doubts crept in through a hole in the bottom of the rusty vat
naked she was twisted torn with defeat tattooed into a punctured heart
vacant echoes of darkness played a symphony in search a broken record
on desiccated skin she had painted all regrets in bright orange crayons
scratched it over with charcoal and waited for final accords of freedom
a mistuned guitar offered Nirvana but an accordion drew out suspense
screechy fiddles bowed to the drum beat calling for tranquil surrender
slit wrists oozed sorrowed blood on transition to redemption and closure
the kitchen smelled of gas as her match stick legs gathered last strength
she had not eaten for weeks and trusted liquor had been her only companion
if only she could overcome apathy and inhibition to pitch up her courage
but her arteries refused to relinquish blood for fatigue to settle for broke
the vessel stood rock solid on shaky grounds of a tiled kitchen floor and
she wondered whether the rope was a rubbery pendulum waiting to snap
and therefore she hesitated at the threshold between paradise and hell
well she pondered I’ve got that one out of the system I might as well live
off my list now I know how it feels like to hand over the conductor’s baton
if my inner audience hesitates to cast the final curtain the show must go on
when she refrained from muting an orchestra she faded for silence to grow
she almost tripped the fuse but severed the cord and rewired her feelings
to align with the desperate reason that life on the edge was better than death
13th November 2020
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