[Sometimes I don’t know if I’m having a feeling]

 Sometimes I don’t know if I’m having a feeling

so I check my phone or squint at the window

with a serious look, like someone in a movie

or a mother thinking about how time passes.

Sometimes I’m not sure how to feel so I think

about a lot of things until I get an allergy attack.

I take my antihistamine with beer, thank you very much,

sleep like a cut under a band aid, wake up

on the stairs having missed the entire party.

It was a real blast, I can tell, for all the vases

are broken, the flowers twisted into crowns

for the young, drunk, and beautiful. I put one on

and salute the moon, the lone face over me

shining through the grates on the front door window.

You have seen me like this before, such a strange

version of the person you thought you knew.

Guess what, I’m strange to us both. It’s like

I’m not even me sometimes. Who am I? A question

for the Lord only to decide as She looks over

my résumé. Everything is different sometimes.

Sometimes there is no hand on my shoulder

but my room, my apartment, my body are containers

and I am thusly contained. How easy to forget

the obvious. The walls, blankets, sunlight, your love.