Doomsday Scenarios

 
Your therapist reminds you that neither fear 
nor hypervigilance are equivalent to devotion. 

Roses in the bowl wilt despite the flower food 
you stirred into the water. Hinges will rust 

from being out in sun and rain, eventually 
making it hard to push open or close 

the gate. But you have a hard time separating 
from scenes of disaster that play constantly 

in your head. Has something terrible happened
if you don't hear from one of your daughters?

Does the silence in the alcove mean your spouse 
has fallen into an irreversible trance? Light leaks

through the blinds. Spores speckle the undersides 
of mushrooms that shoot up overnight after rain.

The moon comes out of hiding, its face gashed
with shadow, puffy from the blunt force of wind.