what if you made your own cage

Bronwyn Lovell

what if you made your own cage

and you lived between 
the mesh of the front and back 
security screens alone, passing 
days without saying a word 
except perhaps the occasional
quiet expletive when you kick 
your toe or consider the utter
meaninglessness of your 
existence: fuck.

what if you were allergic
to the dust but you didn’t 
vacuum so you coughed 
and your parents and friends
had thankfully given up 
on your miserable 
moods and left you alone
behind the metal lattice
where you are locked in and free

to stay in your dressing gown
with unbrushed hair and teeth
and crawl into bed and doze
with the dog who won’t judge
even though she’d rather 
be at the park and might nudge 
you gently to communicate this 
but she won’t push it 
for which you are grateful

because you don’t like 
to be pushed and you don’t 
know how to kickstart your life 
and besides there is something 
nice about just closing your eyes
and the dog will not think less
of you and no one else will guess
at the mess behind the door
that is yours and yours alone.

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