When the day weighs
more than I,
and the sky hangs ominous
as a loose chandelier,
I find time to cocoon
in a silent, dark room
paneled with bland walls
and tasteless paintings.
Who the hell
shoots old people
just for being Jewish?
I slide like mud, deeper
into the sleeper couch.
Next time,
it could be anyone.
Posted in Facebook Poetry, Katherine's Coffeehouse