Blue Calm
The corner of the blanket,
turned over and wrinkled,
picks at my mind like a
finger nail at the rind of an orange.
I could leave it, like so many other things,
but choose to fix it,
if only for lack of effort towards anything else.
Pills melt in my mouth,
candy to an eager child,
these treats they give me
salvation and frustration.
For although they settle me, settle me, settle me,
I know what they are trying to fix.
I feel as if there is a well within me
that harbors poems and tears and
pain.
Perhaps these pills will fill it in,
I cannot say.
I can only question what would lie
beneath the first layer of
blue, blue calm.
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