"Parting" and "Corrective"

Parting

On the iceblink
is a happy hue:
in concert with my chorus.
There is no bother of bliss.
Memory is what we make of it.
 
I’ve packed the grisly parts
in cartons.
They lie in the parking lot
with copies
of my published material.

Corrective

Pain anointed
its impression sooner
than I could synthesize
its import.
As age embraced me
I learned to paw
my way to lair
of liminal space.
Not far from
the lollipop man
of childhood.
Lor, making oneself scarce
is an infelicitous thought.
The finer course
is to accept pain.
Welcoming it:
the antidote.