Uncoupled

Dear God, I am uncoupled like a train
or kite without a string,
if I can’t write my poems
on a daily basis.

The birds don’t sing.
The food I eat is tasteless.
I sit and sit and sit,
look at the screen.

My wife does not approve.
Go out, she says,
This definitely is not a life
and you’re not dead.

Go ahead! Give life a chance!

And what then can I answer?
It’s a kind of dance
alone, with some kind of living partner,
here in the mind.