Panic Again, Again in the Morning

Corey Mesler

I forget the fresh disappointment
for which there is no preparation.
As panic shakes me like a dog
my wife returns to give me her eyes.
Look here, she says, and I really
do try. But I am blinded, friends,
unable to see the safe thing in front
of me. Then the day shimmers
with autumn sun. The leaves begin
a kind of dance. And life comes
back slowly, a tricky, fancy health.
It is here where I wish to lie down.