Hannah Siden

THINGS I COULD DO

I could tear up calendars,
Cancel appointments with my fists clenched,
Scratch out imaging dates in
Angry red pen then feed them to the cat

I could grit my teeth and run
Headfirst through the hospital wall,
Thin blue gown billowing as it
Catches the wind to carry me away

They could find me one day far from the ER
In the middle of the woods, perhaps
Out to sea, or deep in the savannah
Under the shade of an acacia tree

Peeling an apple with a penknife
And humming to myself
Becoming part of the roots I sit on
As I fall apart in beautiful, earthy chunks

I could begin my new life as a tree
Thorny branches touching into blue skies,
Hospital blue — wider
Than I ever thought possible