there is a gas leak.
i could smell the foul air a week ago
and imagined the walls bursting into flames.
they shut the line connected to the dryer,
and now there is laundry that sits three baskets high.
but what is a gas leak,
when i'm thinking about two women
gripping the donor teeter-totter tight?
i'm standing, weak
but i can step outside myself
(because i'm a trained actress)
and embrace not only my fears,
but her fears.
and her fears.
this is not simple.
this is not easy.
this is not what i want someone i love to do,
so i can live.
what is my alternative?
i am choking
on fear, on hope.
i am choking
on hope, on fear.
dear body, Houdini this into some other disease,
so i can battle it solo.
i do not want her to go to war.
i do not want her to be afraid.
i do not want to need a piece of her,
to keep me alive.
what is my alternative?
the plumber can fix the gas leak,
and the laundry will be clean and folded.
plumber, please fix the guilt leaking from my heart.
