seasonal joylessness

There is no antonym for hibernation

I love dreaming in the great silence
of this faraway cave.

But it is the opposite of hibernation
where I subsist, or the reverse
for which there is no word
certainly not emergence as chrysalis
(crack the shell, swallow the yolk)
or the great wakening, but there is no word
for the seasonal way
I go into myself, and seem to you to be virtually awake
because the occasion
is gay, and food and drink abound
and there are parties and people
to contend with, and I don’t wish to seem ungrateful
or selfish—(although that is exactly what
I am)—selfish in not wanting to give my self
to anyone, not even those ribboned and tagged
loved-ones, I always wonder why do we love only the ones
on the gerbil wheel in our designated den, isn’t this the substrate of hate
really, I stash these thoughts like acorns underneath my undershirt
where I am hiding
reversing hibernation with makeup and wardrobe
and I feel certain you don’t want to know
what it is I’m doing in here

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One Response to seasonal joylessness

  1. mark says:

    The opposite to a lesser degree could be wakefulness and greater, insomnia. I wonder if this is an expression of a living life and a happy one at that? Wonderful writing here.

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