the middle finger poem

You say that I don’t seem ‘myself.’

These days are long and revealing,

so every time I see one through, I grin. Every time I make it home, I dance.

Every time I’m up again after being down, down down,

I’m beating the odds.

Every time I don’t give up,

it’s worthy of celebration. Every time I write a poem,

it’s a bloody miracle. Of course, the me you knew …