Morning trip to the wells

I go to the wells for comfort

and by wells I mean what has always

worked- or at least craved.

Chocolate, the thought of sex,

starting therapy again, a long stretch

face downward on a mat. Putting

something in a shopping cart.

Stay abed til the last possible minute,

even if the sheets have a funk.

This time it is only the comic

I started drawing in my head,

the sketch of myself with a caption,

that opens up my ill-used body,

creaks my stiff muscles, tight chest,

free of my mind. Puts despair

into motion. Airs it out.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s