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saving

Saving 

 

You cannot save me 

From old age, a traitorous prostate, 

Wine and the distance of wasted time,  

Careful sensual memory loss,  

The compulsion to be awake at nights deepest, 

The fragility of remembrance, dangerous dance, 

Ice nor autumns drying leaves. 

 

You cannot save me 

From funerals,  

Uncommon monologues, 

The time to dwell on the yellow photos 

Of a stranger’s life, nor the  

The consequence 

Of regret and the lack of poems. 

 

You cannot save me, 

From misplaced longing, 

Empty victories, privileged defeats, 

Unwanted kisses,  

Lost fears, 

And ever-shortening days. 

 

You cannot save me, 

I have no need, 

In the realm of the undisputed 

I have you.

Copyright © Tony Mott

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