The insolence of comfort
I like the way it sounds, the feel of it as
it drops off my tongue....
And I am insolent, reticent and selfish
of what belongs to me today
A girl I wronged
who always seemed to
writhe in blackness
no matter what she did
told me once,
do not waste the pearls of your gift,
do not make light of it, do not ignore it
or let it become a play thing,
because one day you will reach for it,
and it will no longer come to your call
The Chinese Doctor I saw
told me, as he stuck a needle in the center
of my skull, twisting the thin sliver till
it sat just right,
you are at the end of your chi,
you have used your power
used it, till you have little left.
Can it be replenished I asked
wondering why a Chinese Doctor
would smell like wine
on a Saturday morning.
No, you can save what you have
he intoned gravely,
but never get what you have used back
These are the things people have said
and as I wallow
in my insolence of comfort
in my quiet corner of no words
no voices in my mind
urging creations
I can sit for hours
with nothing for companionship
save the quiet inside
I do not rage perhaps
but
I mutter and whine like a whipped dog
under my breath you will hear it
if you put your perfect ear
close to my mouth
are they right ?
are they right ?
and the final imprecation
do I care ?
