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