Depression Imagination

A distressing

consequence of my depression

is reduction of everything

to only literal. I see a dahlia

and express nice flower.

Still able to name things,

I say that’s a dahlia,

but nothing more. No starshine,

no tiny village, no lover’s lips
in its showy display.

Observing the short space

between laughing until tears

and the sullen walk home,

I am unable to describe it.

Only when close behind

a port-a-john sloppily

lashed to a pickup truck

do metaphors come in a rush.

With a holy shit

I visualize a vast array

of what could possibly go wrong

but no answers

Late! But whatever. Sharing in the Imaginary Garden for Sanaa’s first Tuesday Platform