Sometimes it is easiest to laugh
when I see myself in the mirror: the gray under my eyes
shades of purple really.

I am not so different that what happens to me
happens to me alone. Why am I showering
so early? Nothing could be more ridiculous.

I’m paid not to be late, and now
I am, having thought about you, me,
the good misery you say is yours.

Even in pain there is respite, in repetition
hallucination, a way of breaking through to
something else.

You break through, and I cannot help.
Only offer my hands.

See also:

• The book Leaving by Laton Carter.
• Our catalog of poetry titles.