A memory squeezes my liver
my kidneys and stomach too.
Similar to that “guilty pleasure” I ate
before I got the flu.

This one lingers, spreads to bones
which is why I’m here.
Begging you to fix me up
or even better
disappear.

Boundaries are bridges
with misty edges
they can’t be seen
they can’t be felt
until the crossing

The other side is green
with newly sprunged roses
and water springs
or so it seems
until the crossing

As you pass
your clothes are stripped
and you long for what you left behind
But where you crossed, a steep ravine
and what you had it never was

So mind you, that you will be told
that roses are beautiful and springs delicious
To you they’ll never be
Listen to me

When all is done
what’s left is you - post crossing -
and the ringing laugh
of those who fooled you

I got taken aside
told that I had won in life
offered roses as a token.

I never liked roses.

I carry a mask in my purse
for special occasions.
Turns out
wherever there’s people
there:
occasion