ode to 36

somedays you

wake up and

you’re ten years

older than you

remember.

in the shower you

recall every instance

of self-defeat, let

warm water flow

down your back.

you had a chimney

that never worked,

an illusion that you keep

hanging stockings from.

and then, this sleep

that catches you

off-guard, it never

lets go, never lets go.

jcb