Monday
he’s been on the wagon for a moment sane we celebrate/ no cheers or toast or mention of being off/ we remember the relapse/ the way the diseased body does this Parkinson’s thing/ like the time it took a whole song to land that bottle to his mouth/ he amends for moments at his bedside/ times we awaited the call/ funerals I nightmared into a eulogy speech almost memorized/ we celebrate this miracle of moment and wagon until he’s agony flushed in forgiveness overcome with cure