Monday
he’s been on the wagon
for a moment sane we celebrate/
no cheers or toast or mention of being off/
we remember the relapse/ the way
the diseased body does this Parkinson’s thing/
like the time it took a whole song to land
that bottle to his mouth/ he amends
for moments at his bedside/ times we awaited
the call/ funerals I nightmared into
a eulogy speech almost memorized/ we celebrate
this miracle of moment and wagon
until he’s agony flushed in forgiveness
overcome with cure
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