Home

I Myself Slipped The Cable

Tomorrow I’ll depart very early in the morning
I prefer the morning. Yesterday my illness
( my cancer ) pulled up the anchor, discarded
the mooringline, & I began to drift,
absently but very painfully, out through the
early mist ( already a ghost? ) from my
40-year home & delectable harbour. . .

My doctor says continually: Maybe
this, maybe that;  but he's a wise
old so-&-so. He's off for a brief
holiday & has left a huge dose of pills.
(‘Be very careful', he said, without mentioning
it to my wife or to any of my children. )

I’ve hidden the bottle behind one of the Bibles
& covered by the other which for weeks I've kept
close by my bed. . .

I’m as excited as a lover ( or
should I say Bluebeard’s wife ? ) who has
the key to a door - always locked - & is
waiting till past midnight, till everything's
quiet as the grave . . .

Very early in the morning
my family will enter. My wife, suddenly waking,
will say to the children, ‘he’s deeply asleep. . .
The doctor says it's essential he rests: let us
leave him in peace!’

I’ve now sailed far out to sea . . .
I'm anxious to call out goodbye & blow her a kiss . . .
I lean from my boat, happily shouting my thanks to her
- how clever she is!

Note

The problem in this situation is whether to live or die.

The doctor, leaving the decision to me, provides the means for departure.

I am very glad,& deeply grateful to him - especially also to my wife - for helping me to escape from my misery.