332/365: What a Privilege, This Invisibility
We can stay
and be safe as houses,
soft on all sides
and food in the kitchen.
We can watch the snow from the windows
and note where the cold and heat meet
a few inches from the panes.
We can order slippers from China
and hope the water doesn't dry up
or the heat doesn't get too uncomfortable
before we're too old to worry.
We can press our cheeks together
and not have to be anywhere.
We can complain that our lives aren't big enough,
that we are only very small,
because we are so safe and so small.
No one sees us here.
I can hide in soft, small places with you,
even outside this room,
even in a crowded market,
even walking down a street
when businesses let out for lunch.
What a privilege, this invisibility.
It's like we don't have to be here at all.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.