Paranoia Is a Kind of Rain
       

Paranoia is a kind of rain
that will continue. A squeaking
getting louder like flashing and more frequent.
"The hard bump on your arm
is going to be cut out," he says, isn't it
obvious? We're the type to be made smaller
before new people. And I've met
every illness and survived.
It hasn't made a difference. You die
of one eventually—you know
them. I don't want to be there again, the squeaking
getting louder like other beds
gathering around my bed.

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Copyright © 2013 Daniel Moysaenko All rights reserved
from Pleiades
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission