Received a notice: “Congratulations! I have
bad news to share with you.” Left it unread.
Read instead of the golden eyes of reindeer
and thought to endure like that in whatever
constitutes my own onslaught of sun.
Read instead of two ancient worms
thawed from Siberian ice yet allowed
my own coldness to continue to encase me.
Embarrassed myself by wondering
if my impact could be wildfire-big—
blew a whole lot of smoke at some time
for sure. Did not want to gain from tragedy,
feared that I might. Wished to wash
my metaphors, wished to swish out
the great mouth of imagination that chews me.