(Or: On Being Married to a Struggling Writer During National Poetry Writing Month)
I said to him:
This prompt is hard.
How am I supposed to meditate
“from a position of tranquility,
on an emotion you have felt
powerfully” if
I don’t have emotions.
What?
I don’t feel anything passionately
or wrathfully or weepingly
my needle stays down
my rpms idle
my ride is always smooth.
What are you talking about?
Me. I am talking about me.
I do not have emotions or
an emotional range.
I am always the cucumber,
the placid place,
the tranquil tower,
the still someone.
I do not when others
would bang, crash, slam!
No, you’re just really good at hiding it.
What?
You heard me.
I am Halcyon Hal, Serene Steve,
Mild Mitchell, and Contented Carl!
I breathe peace from each nostril
and burn the world around me
with my still and gentle breath.
You, honey, are many things and one of them is a nut.
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