To what depths
must I follow
my heart racing
my gut clenching
my mind drifting off
imagining the grocery shopping
the curve of the laundry line
my hip a different shape than before
click, tick, shock, tock
I whistle while I wait
and meet
and smile
and get busy painting my mask
but still here the gloom resides
and creeps back in
and out
and in again.
