Locking The Garage

   - for Anne Sexton

The flag of loneliness
whips in the air
signaling torpid,
static despair.
Where are the smiles
of yesterday?
Decamped and gone,
gone to stay.
Bullets and pills
whisper, follow me;
how much is left
remains to see.
Better to slip
into the night,
embrace the silence,
ease from sight
beneath the wave
that leads (or might)
to the welcoming
and peaceful grave.
  - mce