How bad is it, one to ten?

Eyes move against a shovel.

Forehead says eight, but social modes

Force a dive, as mice swim in

Poisonous water, bring violet cats.

Scratching, racing, proper response

Starts leaking slowly and firmly

It’s about a two, but underneath.

Underneath, it is millions.

Why did you ask?  You care.

Thank you for your love.

Share me with the cats.

Let them take my eyes, my head.

Throw me into the world

Where this sun sparks an indomitable

Spirit, a fire hose against the rats

Planning their next arson.

These white, sun-splattered buildings

Might kill me, but the depression,

Its’ a two, I’m a two.

You say I’m recovered, but

Let the buildings crush me.

Ask another day, a day in a

Different future, a slice of my future,

Far away in your future.

I’ve submitted this piece for the Sunday Poetry Potluck.  It is not really on theme, but the use of numbers for telling people how we are is incredibly silly but it is sometimes all we have – It is a symbol for what is real.