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SLUMP

(February or March of 1996)

She stays where she slumps

Refuses to let go

She was expecting this

She laughs for no apparent reason

Yet she knows why

And that makes it all the more amusing

She squeezes the cat on her thigh

The small beast of eleven

She calls it "Beast."

The Beast crawls pathetically

Begs for more scratches

Has she ever been that pathetic?

Yanks hair from her eyelid

Satisfies the itch on her sore lip

Blinks cat fur from dry, scratchy eyeballs

The Beast shifts uncomfortably

And eyes her wrist like a late dinner

Late, indeed.

I need my rest; I cannot afford to sit and mope

Just mope, says Beast.  Give me that wrist.

She squeezes her eyes and

Dreams of standing up, changing her life, making decisions.

But she stays where she slumps.