subtext

Who believes?

the awareness
like sandpaper across the iris
blinds before any revelation
is exposed – –

and even at that

delusion washes all
a cold salve to placate
a passive domesticity.

And what of it?

the tired rantings of the self-righteous,

“You should be experiencing
excruciating pain!”

But I’m not.

Like the cat curled, purring
on the end of the couch – –

I am presently content – –

despite all – –

I am

happy to be

no more

than what I am

(August 2001-April 2003)