When It Rains…

I just want to drill my head into the wall
into the space between rooms
where there are no people
no sounds,
except faint echoes of muffled conversations,
where I can sigh, relax and let myself cry without holding it back.
You know what I mean?
That throat-clenching,
cheekbone-hurting,
eye-reddening form of self-control, of telling
the world that we’re
keeping it together.
So I’ll scream between walls and let it pour (Morton salt style)
and when
– if –
I decide to emerge
I’ll blame it on the dust.