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