31 July 2023


The joke is on all of us. 
It isn't a comfort. 
It's a smothering. 

When she said 
that you get to choose 
to be happy, 
she hoped you'd take 
the pail from beside 
your inherited bed 
and walk it to the stream, 

the gentle beck that's just 
"always been there." 

But "always" 
has no volume, 
no weight, 
no matter--
not anymore. 

"Always" became a mist, 
then it became a story. 

This decision isn't a decision at all:
it's the pillow held over your face
until you slip away,

further and further and further away--
no volume, no weight, no matter,
just gone, like all of your choices.