Archimedes unhinged
there is no place to stand
to move the world
no pivot point, no leverage
tragedy dead along with god
and love gone begging for a table scrap
of human kindness

why

when did it all begin to slip 
there is nowhere to run
to go so wrong
the wound too tender still to touch 
the heart too sensitive to beat again 
to flog the day with hope

as if

and the doctors on grand rounds sweep by
there is no cure 
their Sphinx eroded, Oedipus in rags
dispensing mania and desperation
synaptic flash of serotonin all they know
of the anatomy of melanchoy

baby

as acid etches glass you carved my face
there is no going back
no turning at the mouth of hell
to melt into the sunshine of your final madness
too hot too cold and this time too far gone
rivers of gold replace what I once was

for you

—clocke, 27 January 2005