Extreme Unction

By Vincent R. Pozon

I started a gallop but my legs failed
to understand, I fell to the asphalt,
arms ahead for pitiful protection

I asked about a priest in a photo
of a friend in the hospital, the words
"extreme unction" perplexed them

When I look out the car window, up
from book or tablet, or from a nap,
the whiz of a world slows to a still:

Shows me a building, a crowd flagging
jeepneys, where there were a field, a creek
and small stands of fruits and vegetables

In a sense, we notice inflation more,
tracked by the incessant clicking
of supermarket checkout counters.

We age, it seems, under our noses,
we should lift our heads, look out windows,
freeze the frame, every so often.