Saturday, August 21, 2010

In Which The Aftermath Is Always Worse

The fun won't stop, not yet, and not because
The problem did, is past and gone and done.
It's still curled up and waiting for a pause
Within my busy-ness to pounce. It's one
Of many little quirks biology
Has left in us; still animals, we learn
More deeply through our crap recovery
Than through the instant when we took the burn.
It's psychic, though, what happened, so it's kept
Within my body far too long. I breathe
And tap as I'm supposed to, but I've wept
A lot. There's still a lot to do. I seethe
Resenting just a bit how I've been caught
In atavistic traps that chance hath wrought.

1 comment:

  1. Perhaps it's not my business, or perhaps I'm just dense, but what the hell actually happened, girl?
    Weep not. You seem like a strapping young lass and WILL HEAL.
    Inwardly and outwardly.
    P.S. Screw craters - I say we name a whole Martian region after Mac!


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