The Light at the End

Sick, I
lay in bed past ten
and mourn mortality.
It started Thursday;
so did work,
which I suffered through
like a champ, for four days.
Four days!
The yellow cuffs of
that black OfficeMax polo
crept up my arm,
tickled their way past my collarbone,
whispered terrors in my ear
and dove into my throat
day after day.
And somewhere now a bell is ringing
high above Denny Hall;
feet march off buses, down streets
up stairwells, through rosewood doors.
Class begins
but I’m not there.
I’ve suffered enough
at the hands of responsibility
and await instead the haven
of tonight’s softball game.