One Syllable

I said it once and then again,

a little shield made out of breath.

I didn't want to tell him when

I started feeling scared of death.

Or how the basement started leaking

or the way the car began to slide.

The floorboards in the hall are creaking

from all the things I have to hide.

The glass has left a soggy ring

upon the stack of unpaid bills.

'Fine' is such a hollow thing,

a pill that never cures the ills.