WE, TOO

Stabbed by the bully with a paper clip:
“Bobby, what happened?”           Nothing.

Stabbed by the bully, this time with scissors:
“Bobby, what happened?”           Nothing.

“Bobby are you alright?”
I’m trapped in a dream.

Bobby can’t find his body.
If he could, he’d choke it to death.

Fractals and fractions swell the room.
All the doors are locked.

The implications are ominous.
I don’t want to live like this.

“None of us do, Bobby,
and our numbers are legion.”

Mike Wilson’s work has appeared in magazines including Amsterdam Quarterly, Mud Season Review, The Pettigru Review, Still: The Journal, The Coachella Review, MockingHeart Review, and in Mike’s book, Arranging Deck Chairs on the Titanic, (Rabbit House Press, 2020), political poetry for a post-truth world. He resides in Lexington, Kentucky, and can be found at mikewilsonwriter.com