In the apothecary

In the apothecary, they cook
Milk-vetch, and turn it
From yellow potage into
Thridding white powder
Finer than a sniff.
It is valuable, they know,
A pinch of which
Is more than capable of
Extending life's expiry
By a good few days.
And who wouldn't 
Want it?—a brief claim to love
And attention, to the right 
To settle affairs, and 
To the exhaustive path
Of a second chance—
In clear vials of 
Twelve exacting doses.

Dale Chou
2012-05-23