There’s as much comfort lately
in a cold rock in a wintering field
as there is inside my blanket fort;
nowhere’s safe from the awful thoughts.
.
The most frightening of all
is the numbness that rises
within my tainted daydreams
like smog over a culm bank,
all smudged and faintly disturbing.
I wanted to be a floating butterfly
but instead I’m a gavorting hippopotamus,
struggling to dance on land.
A heavy spirit inside a heavier carcass.
The good book tells me
someday I’ll soar in weightless wonder
and music will make me lose all worry.
The gravity of my situation
is lost to the absurd notion of grace.
He had 17 loaves of white bread
in his cart, along with six jugs of sweet tea
and large tub of cottage cheese.
–
She had a shower curtain and duct tape
and at the last moment,
added a Cadbury egg to her basket.
–
I exchanged pleasantries with the cashier-
something about how it’s almost Friday,
as if the moment wasn’t rife with possibility
of death by meteor or gluttony.
–
I remember bringing my child here
and feeling accomplished
when my cupboards were full;
I wonder if that feeling is lost for good
now that I know less about fulfillment
and more about never-ending questions.
–
A dark little bird flew in the rain
and I drove home between dotted lines
on a slick road with no guard rail.
