stability

"yes doctor, things have been alright"
i take my pill each night
and my lover and i don't fight;
the internet tells me i've been taken
fooled and fucked by the man
but the man who's fucking me
loves me back, which is
worth more than the sort of
deep cynicism that puts ladies
at the fiddlehead co-op
in the crisp and crackly town of
new london, connecticut
telling my post-op cancer survivor mom
"just eat right and the tumors will go away"
now i love kale but i've been saved by chemo.
of all of the things to hate, why hate relief?
if you had a constant migraine
constantly grinding at your teeth
you'd pop that pill
but the "psycho" prefix has got you so worked up
you can't tell poetry from prose
simple love from padded walls;
i'm not going to fight with you on this one
the kind of love i live is all-one-all-forgive
like doctor bronner's soap
like the slippery syllable,
"hope"