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.