Strategies

I could go off into drift

I could let the sense of disconnect

condense,

fog up my sight with sadness,

close me in,

make me curl up into a small place

to collect the seeping darkness

in my body’s still,

to manufacture tears, perhaps

and soft howls.

I could wait there for you to notice.

It could be a long wait.

And it would start to seem pointless

after just a little while.

Plus if you did see me there,

what would you do?

I would be

one more unpleasant task,

another instance

of the universe’s obstinance

or bland indifference.

Better to laugh.

Better to consider

that none of this was made with me in mind

There certainly was no attempt

to cut me off

And maybe all of this was an illusion anyway —

Emotional hallucination

of an errant tooth.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 17, 2013