Nothing

I'm always saying there's nothing wrong
usually when it feels like something is terribly wrong.

My mind and body are barely on speaking terms:
my mind absorbs the wrong, but doesn't hold it;
instead, it leeches into the groundwater, infiltrates my body
and suddenly, days or weeks or years later, my hands get anxious
and my arms get depressed
and my legs get edgy.

Nothing is wrong.
I just hurt all over and I'd like to cry over that thing that happened back nearly two weeks ago.
You remember, the one I haven't cried over, the one I said was nothing, the one I made jokes about.
My mind has moved onto other things
but my body is trembly and sad.

Nothing is wrong,
I'm just crying over things that happened a decade ago,
a lifetime,
and I can't make phone calls,
and I cry when someone calls me--
after they hang up, after I've been so cheerful I must seem pathologically oblivious to my own life.

Pollute the groundwater and it doesn't matter what you plant
because what will grow are monsters.


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