Anger moved into my hip last Wednesday.

Tossed in a rough wool blanket

and set up a camp stove

to keep the pain simmering.

Then he invited Depression to stay over.

She brought her heavy self

wrapped in an oily fog

Curled up in a corner to weep.

Anger stretched out across my lower back

Sending tendrils of pain.

Every position took the shape of hurt.

This place is cozy, said Anger.

Let’s squat here for a while.

Depression blew her nose.

Good, she said, I’m too tired to get up.