If
delirium
broke
like
fevers
if
this rabid
scrambling
of
insidious want
became
logically
sane
If
rationale
turned
its gaze
to
awake effervescently
on
a bright spring morning
without
succumbing
to
dark
winter
mourning
if
your name was
I’m Here
and
To Stay
was
more than a melting
block
of ice
with
no shade
in
the black June sun
in
the blacker June regret.
Then
you could buy me
three
months of calm
before
the panic
inevitably
crept back up
my
amygdala.
