Numb

The flowers are still on the table,

the ones I so hastily purchased to brighten this place of mine

because those colors, they will break up this block of ice that’s burning my feet

but I couldn’t even place them in water—couldn’t give them their most basic need, couldn’t do for them

for I haven’t, haven’t been doing for me—my most basic need.

So they are dying.

slowly, a soft yielding death

while I, I remain standing on this frozen block,

feet numb.