my inbox

my inbox is a treasure trove of waiting wonders
messages of magic and mystical maybes
until our electrical connection fails and I’m in the dark
reloading and hitting the trigger
for just one wink, one more cry from you
and then, all treasure is but ruined cupcakes
ocean floor forgotten-ments you weighed down
with your frown and left there,
and I drown, from falling asleep while diving
it’s such a long way down to my depths
yet further to plunge your own when you’re cold
when you haven’t eaten
and you wonder if your Mother, lying in hospital
will die.