The Solvent Emptiness, Or, The Green Lie

The app glows green. A number there,

more than enough, beyond compare

to what I feared, last month, last year.

No bills are due, no phantom fear

of overdraft, of cold decline.

It's fine, it says. This life is mine.

But the kitchen. The quiet, too loud.

The sunlight catching dust, a shroud

of ordinary peace. And then, a hole.

Right there. Inside. It takes its toll.

This balance, this comfort, this 'fine.'

It fills no space, no heart of mine.

I stare at the phone. Want to drop it.

To smash it for lying. To stop it

from showing me what isn't true.

This well-fed blankness, old and new.