climbing with no harness

I sense that we are

Losing our ground.

I’m trying not to fall but

I am constantly grabbing a stone

That is slipping.

I am smoking with asthma

I am drinking with a sick liver

I am buying furry cat upon furry cat—

And sneezing all the while.

I sense that our tongues are drying.

I talk for hours to my bedroom wall.

What a pleasant companion it is:

Stuck holding the floor and the ceiling together

Forced, then, to listen to my incessant chatter,

My insecure wonderings,

My silly questions—

Such silly questions.

I hear the creaking of a door closing,

Anticipating the wind in my face when it is finally

Shut.