Scapegoat

“Stress, stress, stress –

it’s just the surgery stress

that makes you distant and cry so easily.

Everything clearly explained by

stress, stress, stress.”

But it’s too simple to blame that

stress, stress, stress

when more than the shape of my

skeleton is changing.

When our love seems its own

stress, stress, stress.

I can’t count the sticky layers of

stress, stress, stress

that have fused together to form

a nameless, soundless black hole of

love and time and work and

stress, stress, stress.

There’s still a me u...