Self-Preservation

It was, as I remember sometime in mid-November
And yet-fanged winds gummed pink flesh tender.

On my left side, my wife,
On the right, my mother
And I, I was holding my two cats.
And so we walked until
The boy came (naturally)
And swung his fists,
Knife, "Gonna kill you,"
And I ran, ran,
Leaving wife, mother, and two cats.
For him. To him. Anything, him, him
As long as I can live!

Weren't they my life
That I left staring at that knife?

Surprised but still resolute,
I never went back.
I live, live, my life
life is back with the boy
doing what he does (naturally)
from others, take, take...

Yet I, I the one who fled
Breathing, fucking, eating, bed

I can still say I am I am I am I
But it's only me who knows
That soul and mind and freedom
Wither with mid-November's rose.