I contain a certain silence that bends with time 

I tell myself 

this is the best option 

the only option 
the world disintegrating like a crumble cake 

and my coffee on the table 

ready to soak it in 

have I given up? 

that can’t be 

there is more than gin pools

and drowning in fountains 

made of right now…

because not now 

not this second 

not this thing

I  feign a laugh 

and a whim 

of something 

something distant 

instant 

and within. 

 
– sheila c.