Depletion

No one can help me. Not my partner Not my parents Not my friends Not my children Not my doctors Not my dog Not god. Everyone is tired At the end of the ropes with which I tie them to me. I am tired of asking for support Favors, babysitting, Rearrangement of schedules, For people…

My Body’s Betrayal – a prose poem

“I have no idea what I’m talking about / I am trapped in this body and can’t get out”  — Thom Yorke An empty husk, sunk into a permanent hollow in the flannel sheet and mattress A mattress that used to be his mother’s Everything here used to belong to someone else, myself included. Perhaps not…

Blind

*I usually don’t go for rhyming poetry, but this seemed to write itself today. John’s birthday was yesterday and by bedtime it had become particularly difficult. Sometimes, it’s true, migraines are emotional, stress and fear leaking from the heart to the mind. And so. New snow, that breathless bright white Usually brings joy, but some…