Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Empty

Tell me that it will all be o.k.,
that I will wake up from this so-called life
and find the door out.
I won’t tell you of my trials as a child,
or how God created love and suicide.
Or why the professor’s dog runs
and scratches
sucking at beer cans and bitches.
I suppose in two or three days
it will be different.
I will mail myself a letter
and leave out the pages,
just an empty envelope
will arrive in my box.
I will dump it out over and over again
onto my blue sofa,
attempting to solve its emptiness,
just as I have attempted to solve my own.