What Me Worry?

There are moments when all anxiety and stated toil are becalmed in the infinite leisure and repose of nature. - Thoreau

under a wrinkled blanket of yesterday's newspaper

tucked neatly under intensive care, hospital corners

'neath the bed where pregnant dust bunnies nibble on dirty carrots

in the heavy, burdensome, tightly tied trash bag that you drag to the curb in dark of each night

in the attic recesses of what's left of your mind

'pon the chapped lips that utter desperate prayers to your god

as you drive in the beat-up, old car that takes you everywhere and gets you nowhere

trying to roll up a short sleeve

trying to straighten out a crooked, hair weave

struggling to believe

wanting to get up and leave

longing to conceive

as you try not to breathe

deep down in the kettle depths of your walden pond

you light candles and burn incense to erase the truth of tears

to eradicate unkind years and unfounded fears

taking your place in line with life's others mourners

a fake smile of caring painted on your aged face

your soul frozen and you can't find the ice scraper

Author's Note

"If one listens to the faintest but constant suggestions of his genius, which are certainly true, he sees not to what extremes, or even insanity, it may lead him; and yet that way, as he grows more resolute and faithful, his road lies." - Thoreau