By Gerald Blake Storrow
The shorter time is left to me,The less the rush. Whereas before,
My mental foot could not refrain
From tapping out impatiently
My lifetime’s wait for life
To bloody well begin, these days
It grips the ground, and pulse returns
The other way. And so I time
My breath: it’s out, my in. I doubt
That death will change
Very much of anything.
Gerald Blake Storrow lives in Cambridge and Chilmark, and is another satisfied customer of Nancy Slonim Aronie’s Writing from the Heart workshops. If she hadn’t been around, he says, he would never have written anything.