I open the closet door and ask,
is it time yet?
Is it here?
Has the sky fallen?
Have the four horsemen
ridden across the horizon?
No one answers!
I slam the door and know
that the fever has consumed them all.
Millennium fever has left me alone �
To mend my ways and tend my fears
I open the closet a crack �
And feel the silent serpent . . . night . . .
close tight around me
and the fever grips me.
A Python of fear,
constricting and leaving me breathless.
But I slam the door again . . . Safety!
Safety, from the chidings of Nostradamus
or the sorrowful wisdom of Cayce . . .
The end is near � the wise sayers of the centuries
have warned me, their reason
is the true reason
and it is apocalypse now.
I crack the door again.
To chance a glimpse of doomsday,
but find only . . . Tuesday.
I mount my fear
and brave the joist with destiny
and step beyond my closeted cloister
to face the day that drove me mad . . .
I sniffed no Satan�s sulfur,
nor demon�s fire.
My skin did not burst and bubble in flame.
No brimstone, or noxious gases appeared,
so I ventured to the street
to meet my fate as destiny desires.
I crossed the avenue
then crossed myself,
as the Millennium rained sweetly
upon my upturned lips . . .
and I never saw the truck
that swept me to eternity.
Top Life Home
Copyright �2000 by Michael Suib. All rights reserved.
Published in Poetry the Write Way: Webstatic � First Journey (Sept. 2000)
Michael�s biography page