I threw the book across the room.
(It landed safely on the couch.)
I pulled another from the shelf,
But kept it back with shoulders slouched.
“The drama doesn’t heal, you know.”
I crashed into the couch myself
And tracked the lizard on the roof.
“It’s time we started seeking help.”
I scrolled across my contacts list,
Avoided typing in the search.
I found the number, dialed it in,
And waited for the belly lurch.
“The number you are dialling is…”
I breathed a sigh of much relief.
The book again was inviting.
I opened to the dog-eared leaf.