Inside the grey balloon
on its slippery floor
Empty in here
save the very air, and
it’s not even helium

someone else’s
exhalations of CO2
Crushing my lungs
Hard to breath
to think

I view life though
this opaque barrier
My hands press
against one side
upsetting my
delicate balance

Gerbil in a wheel
reeling around the room
above the carpet
below the moon
Without a pin to pierce
these pale graphite walls.

So I will sit here
wait for the
half/air to seep out
Then I’ll wriggle
through the knot
to rejoin the living

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

For Poets United’s Wonder Wednesday, the prompt was simply, “grey.” Depression is my grey, and yet, coming out of it is simply another shade. There are no blacks and whites (save ink and sheets of paper). A grey world is what you make of it. And then there is the burgeoning silver in my hair, AKA “God’s free highlights.” Peace, Amy