Pain Med

Sorrow, well, you should have sorrow.
Supposedly, you’re dying soon—
But supposedly has been months,
Much of which you’ve been contented

And happy as you’re sorrowful
Now. And pain, well, you should have pain,
But the drugs increasing sorrow
Seem increasingly nonchalant

About decreasing pain. Upstairs,
The pets are sad, locked in a room.
The dishes overfill the sink.
Daughter slept over at a friend’s.

Hale and hearty young men’s voices
Echo around the parking lot,
Discussing this morning’s bike ride
As they fiddle with equipment.

Then they’re off. The sun shines. One dog
Starts a local bark. A cockroach
Struggles on the porch to return
Upright, and you wheel back inside.