Lighten Up


they tell me, though being breezy has
never come easy. They want helium in
my cement mix. Confetti on the River
Styx.  Balloons above a crucifix. Flowers
in a gravel pit. It doesn’t fit. Joie de vie
just isn’t me. My family’s full of sorrow
and suicide. A hearse is not a Disney ride.
I clutch at conventionality, sensing near
insanity. Still, people tell me to lighten up,
after which I just tighten up. An overwound
watch with a loud alarm, ready for the next
hour’s harm. As I see it, most enlightened
is most frightened. The merrier, the scarier.

from The White Eyelash, Grove Press.