Process
Mary Winters
What cornucopia of trite psycho-babble
produced — “ change is the only constant!!”
When worldly you swore for years:
nothing ever changes,
you know...really.
Until Delphic you found yourself murmuring
after only one glass of wine
New Year’s Eve, 1990:
“This is the decade our parents will die;
we’ll see our very own, very personal
ritual slaying of elders...”
Except we won’t get to do it. Because
yes, virginia, there really are
deus ex machinas,
more than you can possibly imagine:
three parents going, going,
even gone, even rotted clear through
by now -- only 1992.
And you thought it was all going to be
gold on a rich, black background
from here on in. When you
haven’t been able to say good-bye.
When you are just beginning to sense,
despite what a doctor might say (
don’t look down now):
everything is communicable.