crumpled after a tumble down the stairs.
There was little I could say, nothing I spoke;
not that anyone who knows cares.
All they can tell me is “Chin up!”
They do not see I have turned to crystal.
I stare and stare at this cold cup,
at the slightest thing I could go off like a pistol.
It’s hard enough to drag myself out of bed,
never mind the reminders that I should be able.
The waves slosh and slosh inside my head.
The scan still sits on the coffee table.