Doubled over

curled up

drained down to my secret nerves

I grope for

whatever

Just need to close this window

the wind must never see me

cuddle dust bunnies

Under the bed

I’m an old diary

the wind must never read me

                                                            (even rats are ashamed to be in your woodshed)

Doubled over

curled up

melted down to asymmetries

I grope for

whoever

If I were a fairy

would anyone steal my wings

Hold me steady

force-human

commonsense me

                       

                                                                        (what would the neighbors say)

The fortunate, the meek!

How fast they dream

If only they could tread – what’s the word

                                                                        (softly: like ghosts wearing slippers)

Softly is the word

No doors banging

no phones ringing

no laughter creeping in this cellar

where half a century is turning to sour grapes

(melancholy is a bad performance)

Kindly shut up

You know I love roses and wet…