Pajolo Cam

the test came back positive

and i gave it some thought

right now, i’m only ready for a full-time job

and the sky’s a bright blue that i understand

–

sushi for breakfast, coffee-cigarette routine

interviews lined up, i don’t care for this baby

–

i can’t find this poem, the words to say

they’re scattered in the pile of clothes in the corner

scattered in to-do-lists, the projects that i say

i’ll get to sometime – i’m just too busy!

–

too busy on my phone, brain-dead rotting

i ignore the therapy homework that i’m assigned

–

i need to get up in the morning and

address the aptitude that i have for commitment

my last Adult job ended in a hospital

suicidal ideation was what did it

–

this time, i’ll kill the baby instead!

well, the thought of having one, i guess

–

i was supposed to go back to school this fall

the plans fell through and kept on changing

miscarriage after miscarriage

is what my flighty certainty brings

–

at least i can say i’m resilient and flexible

but still, this poem escapes me