Message in a bottle

On my
Deserted island
I walk along the largely
Unlettered shore

I wrote poems
Stuffed them into bottles
Sometimes

The messages at first
Were
Please send help
Get me off this place
I’m not where I should be

But the tides
Returned
These cries

Later they were conversational
Talking about the weather
And sunsets

And the tides
Sent these back too

More recently
They contain
Smiling advice
Kind comfort

I influence
The tone

The tides
Decide
The course of correspondence

Tea Session with Depression

One lump or two
I ask
Assuming that I am
“Mother”

Depression is indifferent
And so I merely leave the bowl
And spoon
Within reach
In case it has a change of heart

In past visits
Treated with contempt
In my vain attempt
To cast it off

I had always considered it to be coarse
Unrefined
Somehow brutish
Now that we are face to face
It seems quite shy

I’m reaching for compassion
For this unfashionable defense
This wartime response
Who stares
Like a shell-shocked veteran
Lost in peacetime

I try to remember
That it is only trying to help
Old coping
Broken
As a talking doll with a knotted string
Answering questions
That haven’t been asked

That’s why I’m pouring
Gentle tea
For both of us

A Menagerie Friend

You were my familiar
A strange and cat-like companion
Courteous enough
And so not fully feline
With indifference

I had the sense
On our first meeting
To keep you secret-secret
...Secret

I did not want anyone
To talk me out of hearing
Your imagined laughter

I did not want anyone
To explain away your whispers
As merely breezes

...Or your smile
As a wishful thought

I did not want to question
Your wise insight
Your counsel which was
So often
The same as mine

When did you fade
...Where went the days
That somehow passed without you

...They escaped
Like pets
At incautious doors