The Blues

Smile more, they say

Attitude makes all the difference

My numb mouth stretches into a curve

Authentic as a thumbnail print

Hanging beneath two black dots

In a bright yellow circle

Drawn by a child's blunt stub of crayon

Change your outlook

Choose to be happy, they say

I gather my blessings

Counting them like shiny coins

I barely feel the weight of them

In my slow and clumsy hands

Behind my ribs hangs an old muscle

Exhausted and riddled with holes

It can hold onto nothing

Except the clots of darkness

That cling with minuscule claws

You don't need pills, you need

Sunshine and rainbows, they say

Tell me

Can a sunny attitude

Reknit broken bones?

Maybe if you practice gratitude

Your cancer will go away

I guess I'm just a grump

It must be my fault

If I keep turning my frown upside down

Will I start wanting

To wake up in the morning?

I must have chosen

To live in this glass box

Where no warmth can touch me

Get out more, they used to say

Force yourself to have some fun

Be with your loved ones

But by now

They've stopped calling

Stopped trying

Do they suspect it's terminal

Or contagious?

I perform my own autopsy

Slicing open chilled flesh

Sorting through tangles

Of black ribbons

Of meat and tendon

Trying to find the place

Where sorrow hides

If the sadness could be revived

At least it would mean I cared

That I felt something

Anything

I'm sorry

I didn't mean

To bring you down