It was Hope
that kept me here
long after
I should have fled.
Hope, Soft monster,
makes light work
of final plans
and end games.
Not to suggest
that things were easy
after hope had sunk its teeth
into my skin
but once bitten
I was diseased immediately
and sick with it,
I stayed put.
Now, weary, unable
to move on,
I sleep cuddled in fever
with hope and
long for an end
to symptoms:
obstinate survival,
longing for dawn,
sporadic optimism,
slight joy at odd moments
when I feel like
perhaps all of this
is worth
all this trouble.