Curing Most Ills
National Poetry Month- Draft 4
Epiphany
I would really like to have an epiphany
that doesn’t involve the realization
that death happens.
Why can’t my great enlightenment
alert me to the fact that
chocolate happens?
That peppermint explodes in the mouth?
That a hot bath will cure most ills?
That eggs are unblinking
(until the yolks crack)?
And that the love that always forgives, that is,
the love you give to me,
does not come, like death,
to all, but
like the purest epiphany
wakes just one person
at a time. Thank God, this go-round,
it’s me.
All rights reserved. Suggestions welcome. (It’s a draft!)
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