11/29
Sonnets From Other Lives: X

He reaches in his pocket for his keys.
Nothing. No key. No coins. No wallet.
No pocket. No pants. No identity.
This malady—whatever should we call it?
Aren’t there multisyllabic Latin names
for sudden total losses of existence?
Undiagnosed--he know cannot claim
compensation from his health insurance,
for it may be his condition preexisted—
& now he’s fallen into a relapse
where the fibers of his being came untwisted
& like a star, he’s suddenly collapsed
into the nether regions of his soul:
Event horizon. Singularity. Black hole