half-centuried
1.
the struggle for equilibrium begins
the doctor finds dangerous patterns
in your heartbeats and cholesterol
medication must be assigned
adjusted and monitored
exercise must be measured and maintained
the right kind of sleep becomes
more than just bed by midnight
nutrition becomes unfamiliar
a strange and heavy wood to be navigated
stress and anxiety, work and leisure
all to be balanced in delicate weights
2.
at night I climb the dark tower
with passages of all the books I’ve read
etched into its sides like handholds
at the top is a long cable
that extends outward into the haze
with two steps I find myself tottering
calves flexing to keep the body there above
arms akimbo, two desperate waves
every step feels like some last ditch attempt
wasn’t this path once closer to the earth
I seem to recall a wide black net
stretching out before me like a mother’s arms
3.
tonight I wear an astronaut’s helmet
the air is too thin, I can hear the hum
of the oxygen on my back, I am clutching the cold bar
of a hang glider, all I can do to keep it above the clouds
aggressive currents grab at the edges, wanting
to send me rushing downward on unforgiving drafts
the whole contraption shakes with the effort
of driving steadily forward, grace of motion abandoned
I steel myself against the impression of storm
roiling cumulonimbus stalk my path, why so high I wonder
as pellets of ice chip my face and rattle on the glider’s canvas
like warning shots
.
Corbett Buchly’s poetry has been published in Rio Grande Review, Plainsongs, North Dakota Quarterly, and Barrow Street. He is an alumnus of Texas Christian University and the professional writing program at the University of Southern California. He currently resides in Northeast Texas with his wife and two perfectly unusual sons. You can find him online at buchly.com.
.
Stone Poetry Quarterly 