on the kitchen sink
drip
drip
drips
all night. I feel the water
trickling
down
into
my ear
into my skull
and my brain can’t stop swimming
or it will drown.

Coping
is better than the alternative.
Usually.
The codeine helped my cough but
now the bottle’s dry and that same goddamn
drippy faucet is the heavy
tick
of a grandfather clock as
time becomes
quicksand
and I still can’t stop
swimming but the more I struggle
the faster I sink.

3 am and the
drips
are mortar shells
shrieking down.
Every impact louder than the last, until finally
I peel the curtain and look out the window.
I want to catch
the white
hot
end.
If it’s all I can do, I want
to see it coming.