Bowing Out by Brian Francis Heffron

I bow out.

Sustained sadness in suspension.

The brown river covers over the devil's fish,

All roaming around down there in the darkness of the muck.

A finger length away, but still no one can see them,

As they slip their fingers onto the trigger.

I bow out.

Bars of yellow sunlight on the veranda

A spun golden light that some may never see,

And most have never felt on their faces.

Because this session has gone on far too long.

Christ, I can see my reflection in the dried blood.

I bow out.

Required like the kneeling in the pew,

The very worst things are done

In his name.

But the velvet blackness still

Hangs like a fire-curtain to seal in the sin.

I bow out.

Registered and unregistered

Feelings come and go like grazing goats.

The jury is instructed to ignore them.

But now we have this boil

That must be lanced.

I bow out.

My voice is now sandy with grit.

My eyes have grown hazy 

From all this smoke.

But beware behind you, lest I strangle you.

Hands shaking with weakness and rage.

I bow out.

Weakened by the journey

And now these two weeks without rest,

My mind is in the deep water now.

Swerving back and forth in the silent depths

Like a hammerhead shark.

So all this is now dependent on you.

Cause I bow out.