anergy: in immunology, the state of lacking a response to an antigen that would normally stimulate a response; a lack of energy, strength or activity.
This is to inform you that I am unable to respond to your letter
I regret the tardy riposte. Fatigue saddles my response,
dropping it to decibels beneath human earshot. I cannot hear you.
Last night I dreamt that I was buried in rubble. Today,
my insensitivity appears to remain intact.
Urges have vanished into yawning seas or lackluster desert dust.
I can only turn on the radio, exhale, massage my neck,
glean the rows, dissect the day’s throbbing,
move words and phrases about like furniture and nick-knacks.
Call it anergy, call it what-I-should-have done, call it a disgrace.
Once a soft middle, an egg yolk, a point to attack and raise hackles.
Probing arouses neither giggle nor tickle, only words spit
from a washed-up mouth, sound of tin cans scraping along a dirt road.
This is the pain I am leaning into. All substance is made of molecules
made of atoms made of electrons made of quarks made of leptons.
There is more pleasure in old photographs, neon marquees, news-and-candy
kiosks. Please do not contact me again.