after Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi. Big thanks to Desiree Dallagiacomo for introducing me to this poem.

Every moment I do not feel like I am dying
is extraordinary. A slowly rotting nut encased
 inside a shiny, bright candy coating. Savor the bits still true to form.
it surprises me! How the thick, fragrant steam rising from the hot mug 
remembers me. The song of crickets does not make me want to scream. 
pass the mic! I sing back to them a love song.
Here I am. Hello friend. We are still
        surprisingly         delicious      at times.
My family wakes and I retreat 
back into the half-death. See, I already screwed this up. 
Words are spells and everything you say is inherently your fault. 
Take the mic back. There is too much to be grateful for. 
A lovely home, a loving family, gardens bursting forth, 
good neighbors, a steady job, clean water. 
My car even runs most days. 
Somehow they all become items 
on the to do list of my life. silent death metal disco. 
I am silently screaming, throttling myself 
in my mind while washing the dishes, 
preparing the elderberry syrup, starting the laundry. 
It’s going to be sunny today, I could probably get 3 loads dried. 
I don’t deserve any of it. If you’re not grateful enough, 
then the measure of your wanting 
becomes your life sentence. no one wants to hear about it.
Oh! The glow of the sunflowers out the window 
dazzle my eyes and the world falls away. 
I watch them swaying, I am swaying with them. 
Do I see my something like my reflection in their shine?
My son slams into my body, yelling battle cries, and then 
is gone. He is where my heart went, running amok outside of me. 
He falls on his sword again, literally, 
and is weeping. I hold him close, trying not to recoil at his sounds.
I wake up each morning gasping 
like a carp out of water. I am a big fish, mouth opening and closing, 
so near to death I can taste it on the air I am gulping - deep breathes - 
but air is not what I need. 
I need to be underwater, I belong beneath the surface	
the peace 		the quiet		the thick medium 
enveloping me. Everyone I love keeps showing up for me, 
they have all become items on my to do list - adding up my lack
of follow through. This is not the surprise. 
Every moment a box to be checked. The way every unexpected sound rips my brain out 
through my throat - pass the mic!
I am speaking in tongues, see my brain bits flecking your face 
like spittle as I scream - its an ear worm, burrowing deep, siren singing:
“Death is being useful without having to be”
“This is not who you are.”
surprise! I catch my own eye in the mirror. 
I smile. There is definitely someone there, 
someone I still know. Someone I still love.
              No masks 		No lists   	No screams
Just them and me.
            No needs 		No expectations
Bring them back to the stage! Encore, encore! 
Then, let the mic drop.
Hallelujah.

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