eloise drake

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melancholia

weepy, faraway freak under
imaginary interrogation lights –
they sear into clandestine
melancholy

she has tried so hard to keep it concealed,
but water touched by flame cannot
pretend it doesn’t boil

downcast eyes so they cannot sense
the well’s depth and opacity –
mouth corners pinned into
a permanent grin –
don’t let it twist to grimace

their careful words morph into the
dull hum of cicadas –
gripped by her hidden wreckage
her tears bubble up to the surface

deluge from the deep
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