There is a difference
between suicidal
thought and wanting
to be dead, says
the black nipple zinnia
near the drive.
As a man, I do not plan
to die clattering in a kitchen
drawer between sharp
edge and serrated.
I test the temperature
of bathwater with a toe,
settle in the hot
porcelain tub, a drop
of red spills onto my chest
from my stemmed glass.
I prune. Become tepid,
pull threads from the
shower curtain. Thunderhead
sedum says, there is a difference
between acute and chronic.
My condition? Low grade,
long lasting as the ever-
bloom of the amaranth
seen through the window
of a morning bath.
I anger the grasses in the yard.