Untitled

She wanted
her happiness. First
she tried setting
a trap of sulking
and petulance
and woundedness. Happiness will come
and check on me
that was her line
of thinking. Take to bed
and weep
and radiate
brokenness. Who could resist
a gentle touch to
her delicate hand
and the cherished spotlight of
hey
are you alright?

Happiness did not come.

Then
she set out bait
rituals
and readings
of wise and optimistic
and heartwarming things. Act as if.
1000 reasons
to be happy
at the bedside
a gratitude journal
silver linings
getting organized
and together
she dressed herself
in sunny lingerie
lay down
spread her legs
and waited for happiness to come
and take her.

Happiness did not come.

Finally then
her true stripes
she and happiness
side by side
but not touching
late one night
in the damp finished basement
on the couch
in the dark
watching something bad on TV. Happiness
gets up to leave
and she slaps her hand
and digs her nails in
to happiness' hand
and hisses
every word
through bared teeth

sit back down
bitch

Happiness does
but only looks at her
with pale moony eyes
that make her
retract her claws
and shiver.

Her defeat. Her grief. An unknown
season at sea
without compass
or communications. She forgets
what she was doing
or where
she was going
until an ocean morning
sky pink
and orange
and the gulls
and a gentle heave and lap
at the weathered wood
of the hull. Her hair is
long and tangled
her limbs
gone rangy
and she presses her palms
down and lifts
herself up
to see the dawn
just to see it
and nothing else

and happiness comes

oh
she thinks
without needing
to say it

I am glad
you are here.