Cannot Stop It

It sickles out a living

when you're not looking,

takes a piece of you,

leaves a part of it

on you, in certain scars,

you can never shake.

Sometimes it's something

you hope you'll get

to sleep through,

like when the babies

finally keep bellies

full enough

for you to miss midnight--

your circadian rhythm,

undisrupted.

But even though

you think

you're ready,

you're not yet ready-ready,

and tend to say,

it's coming, one day,

coming—

though you know enough

to know

it's already here.

© 2015 Jennifer Wagner

Title spun from Emily Dickinson's “Because I Could Not Stop for Death.”