“Private Griefs” by A.J. Huffman

Light slips through the blinds.
Turning this page
into a cell.
is the sentence I am trying
to avoid.
is out of the question.
And out of my mind
with the rest
of that optimistic bullshit.
I welded that lock of breath long ago.
Instead I roll me over.
Blanking out the thought.
Too bad.
It would have been divine
bleeding from my pen.