halfway home

it was the usual uneventful night
late food a little reading
and the imperfect sleep of a broken life

but now in the teeth of another day
i don’t know who i am

i’m feel like I’m walking on sand
and when i touch something – anything –
the wall – the coffeepot – the sink – whatever –
my hand melts – no –disintegrates –
into barely visible particles that become one
with whatever it is i’m touching

i’m not kafka’s cockroach
or any other phantasmagorical creature
born of a fevered mind

when i stand in front of the mirror
i look exactly the same as i did yesterday
disreputably rumpled in the clutch of age

except i’m outlined in a sort of sooty halo
transparent spiked and wavering
as if by the kiss of a soft breeze

it’s like being one’s own ghost
as though i’m dead and alive at the same time

half in
half out

and now the dog is barking at a stranger
and the stranger is me

***

RC deWinter, a superannuated poetry debutante, writes in several genres with a focus on poetry. She’s also a digital artist and sometimes chanteuse. Her only claim to fame is a supportive Twitter following. @RCdeWinter