Cabbie asked
"how was your day?"
but good."
I lie
through my
practiced smile
of coping,
swallow back
the true words
in the pit
of my belly,
to erupt
on the backseat
of the cab,
blue projectile vomit
of despair
and heartbreak

I should
be used to it
by now
news of crisis
unpredictable acts
like a light switch
gets flicked
in your brain;
they tell me to let go
put you in a tidy box
of serenity
but it doesn't fit
me or you,
the umbilical cord
won't let the lid shut
I can feel you
as I sit here
waiting for news

B.Y. Penman 8-17-21