November 9, 2022

Papers folded, trained to behave, are scattered on the childlike table.

Parents lost, faces grayed, await the doctor’s arrival.

Crayons oppressed by their love of theatre,

Move pointedly down the wall.

Toys are mocked for being there.

They shouldn’t be there at all.

Chairs prepare themselves for bodies too small to matter.

Chairs prepare themselves to work.

The room is all set.

But my life is not.