Heroin

I found him on the floor,
beside the toilet bowl.

He still had the rubber hose
knotted round his arm.

His hand was puffed and puce;
still coiled into a fist.

I remember when it used
to rub my beard

When it was small and pink;
pudgy then too!

The only needle marks then,
administered to save.

I held him; just sat there on the floor,
with his head in my lap.

My tears rolling down his face;
I cried for him.

I hunted memories, longing;
deferring the finality.

Fishing in the sea of woe, among
the wails and barren islands

of hope, miracles and timelessness
and sat for a while on their beaches.

Footsteps! Footsteps coming;
hesitant, unsure, afraid; knowing!

She will come with me to the sands!
We will search together

For the treasure that will soon
be buried forever.

Our sun will go down!
Our son will go down!