Ophelia, Alive Read online

  Sometimes I’m alone in my bed

  (And it feels like the past is killed dead);

  Other times, I’m awake

  And my world starts to shake

  And I can’t get her out of my

  I’m in my mom’s kitchen and sitting at the table with a pen in my hand and a poem in front of my face, and I say to myself, Dammit, I said no more limericks, but there it is in front of me, and my next thought is Hey, I finally wrote something, and then I think, How did I get down here?