Off the bus from school, / the picture window’s curtain is drawn. / So, you’re there on the couch. / I can hear the sound of soft moaning / before I go in. Say: I’m home. Hello. Goodbye. Ask: Can I tell you that I’m sick, / because sick / is what you are? / Say: When you say, Be free of my burden. / You mean free figuratively, / not literally. / But you were right. Ask: Is it already time to say goodbye? Say: I believe in letting go, / like disconnecting, / like see ya later. / Ask: What are your medical issues—what are their names now? and should we still use this innocuous term issues? / Say: I’ll give a short history / of the universe of them, / the orbits of each / not quite making perfect ellipses. Ask: Is guilt the gravitational force that keeps them tethered? / Say: Goodbye. See ya later. / Ask: Is duty the same as guilt? Say: The farce of it all. / I can’t keep up with it. / Ask: Is it ever too late? Say: I still hold your old medical chart / tucked in a pocket somewhere. / Ask: Do you feel any pain? Say: I’m leaving now. / I’m gone. I’m so far away now. / Ask: If there is no pain— / if I have none / and you have none, / are we an equation / where the product / equals numb? Say: numbness— / the physical and mental state / of disconnection. Ask: Why do I still need you? / Say: After all, I could only say goodbye / in this poem / to myself. / Ask: Will you show me how / to go numb, to disconnect / in a dark room / moaning softly to anyone / who might hear, / then ignore / and then disconnect / and then be free, too?

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