The Problem Comes

With the new schedule
time draws up after
the farewell party when
you see what you are down for
after years of marking off
days by hours, hours by bells,
to wash and shave and dress,
for ten-minute breakfasts,
bells for doors, for customers
at lunch, memos, appointments,
golf on Saturday . . .
But now in silence
you listen for skipped heartbeats,
a cough, shallow breath, nod off
in the sun, avoid stairs, take pills
at night, remove your teeth.
Clocks join the calendar in
a conspiracy behind your back.
The pages turn blank you once
filled with plans, starred and
amended to confirm
your prophecies.