walking on Jupiter

 

like a shadow of Marcel Proust, confined between

ochre sheets, rising only to snack, gulp

a Prosecco flute, or perform his toilet, like a trout.

                                time slowed

for someone who found himself treading in thickness,

        knowledge just creosote nibbling the edges of a cherished

side table, decay apparent in every stride, uniformity assured.

       an astronaut whose life

support measures nth blood lactate levels, stressed,

chartered & packed away as fluttering folders deep

beneath recesses' computer pockets: lab rats. yet

so not an astronaut, more a bed-ridden, hidden microbe.

overwhelmed white cells compromise an inner

world where recovery means one small

step. a day closer to the end.