dead dog sunday

it is the deadening of my nerves that has surprised me
more than anything
the last few years.
i continued barreling through my thirties with the sex drive
and moods of my twenties
so i didn't expect withdrawal
the Cheever fossilizing against suburbia
finally making itself known;
if anything I would have expected more exuberance
due to the children all being partly or all grown,
no more babies hanging from my breast,
in between my husband and i in bed.
at times i feel the ridiculous nature of life
is so extreme that to coast is best.
other times i feel terrified that i am secretly dying,
and will be buried in my suburban garden,
with it's pleasant cluster of low moisture needing plants
and non-toxic bug killers
with my old dogs buried near me
my old fears too,
my pretty little pussy buried underneath the roses
so by any name, they may smell as sweet.
am i old so soon?
why am i deliberate in the face of our world
hurricanes and droughts and churches away
from being a total failure,
why do i bathe my children and hold them and 
weave decorations through our lampshades,
stroke the dog's belly and feed my neighbor,
when the clock tower is nearing midnight?
it's amazing how tired you can become
long before it is time to sleep.