THREADBARE

 

Tonight, I hang by a thread.

I hide the fear,

slip it beneath my tired smile

and let them call it resilience.

 

I count my many blessings.

I write, I rest, I sleep.

I hope for another new treatment,

for some respite.

But tonight,

after being shredded,

I hang by a thread.

 

On a happier note, Alisa is right, my poetry book, Illicit Croissants at Dawn, does make a lovely present, especially the hardback version.