by Chris Buchanan

Poetry, 2022

They ask at the end

of the depression tests

don’t they

Do you have any thoughts

of hurting yourself

or killing yourself

And they may break a touch

Here goes, be ready, look cool

And I say No –

And they’re back. Relax.

But I’m wondering

Should I finish?

The full answer is No –

Not myself. All of you.

Absolutely all of you.

I didn’t make this thing!

Dug it up, brought the canaries down.

I haven’t clawed out

a hole in the walls, inches back from it,

scented the indent with me,

a warning

So I’m can stay here working it, safe, smiling, name on the door,

mind your head

Breathe

Slow