—after David Ignatow’s “I’m a Depressed Poem”

I am so sad. Really, I’d feel so much better if you would linger a bit. Let me make friends again. If not with you, then someone else. I could change my mood then, my attitude, my scent, my song, my suit, become less pitiable and pale. All I need is another chance. Even my tone of voice could soften or rise like a kite in the wind. Would you like that? I know all the notes on the scale, and many octaves above. Would you take me out for a spin then? A ride on your plane? Even if it’s true, I am attached to earth, to rocks, to small green plants. And you, my love. Oh, I beg you. You who haven’t visited for eight days now. Or is it nine? I am losing count. I used to think I could happen of my own devices. That I could give birth to myself, not once but many times. Now I need help. A little social life. Something else. Please? I am so grateful to you for listening, however faint my voice might be. You’re a compassionate soul. I can see that now. That’s why you are leaning in. Letting me hold you. Tight. Tighter. Yes? See how pleasant I am? After all, I’m not asking for much. Just your last breath.

Bio: Nin Andrews