The old woman—

with her hair down,

with slight, bone-dry hands,

with a white, transparent nightdress

through which her sagging breasts are seen—

is barefoot.

She falls down. Stands up. Falls down again. Stands up again…

A childless, spouseless, lonely woman.

From time to time she visits me,

reaches into my guts with her hand

and pulls out my nerves like a rubber band

with her two fingers,

then looks me in the eye,                                     

pauses,

and releases those two fingers…

The scene is shattered.

I—falling back into time—

drop down with a crash into my day-to-day routine

and remember those minutes like a single frame,

where silence coils like a snake.

Now, voices enter the scene and move it forward

and I –

since dropping down to my day-to-day routine—

have sobered up again.