god-no “oh, god-no,” she said,  “you can’t use a word like melancholy these days, don’t be ridiculous” a word quaint and wrinkled, retired to a pensioners’ hospital tucked down an alley of mud-caked cobblestones, trotted out only for the occasional classroom visit but I want the word back, want to spring it from its forced dotage, let it roam at-large to dust it off, smooth out the faded creases, let its bile blacken and bubble again a bathrobe of a word, loose enough for this jumble of joy and sorrow, stasis and ecstasy a word for the press of my forehead to the window when a pane of glass is more than ample restraint a word for the arterial throb in my hands and   throat when she scoffs, turns, leaves the room a word broad enough to stretch into a shade arbor and curl up under to wait out the stultifying heat “no, you can’t use it, you just can’t,” she said,   the ridiculous word I could put to such good use                                ___________                                                                      Home / Escapee / Stories / Poems / Non-fiction / Contact / Links