ice clinks

sweet tea ice clinks

while my head rests in my hands

spinning thoughts

upon crazy worries and despairing images

like the thick, brown syrup

tangling a sunken, frozen cube

upon the sweating bottom

of a glass half-empty,

and i tearfully wonder

if this is the madness she suffered

if this is the mania he endured

or if i am simply imagining

being saturated by gloom

in some feeble attempt

to stir time backwards

so i can embrace them again

in honeyed, sugar kisses,

and stick them to me

permanently, forever.

January 20, 2011