I Thought

I thought, afterwards,

when I was done startling

out of my skin

at every creak and 

soundless brush of shadow;

when my head was done

surging into volcanic pain --

body shaking, green,

and retching;

when I once again

surrendered,

despite deep reservation,

to the passivity of sleep . . . 

I really thought,

after all of this,

that I could and would

return

without a hitch

to that nice, neat world of

impeccably painted walls

and wooden trim,

that all my shelves would fall

back into order --

and I'd dust.

The whisking of the

clean, fresh cloth

would solve it all --

I thought --

wiping away the smears

of ruin

and the seething pain

of shock.