Ennui Poem by Patti Masterman

She used to have energy for things like birthday parties,
long shopping trips, browsing at many stores
imagining the possibilities.
Now she fears boredom and fatigue and stays close to home.

She has seen it all before and then some,
the flagrant materialism of the age sunk into her, until she began to drown silently,
arms flailing, enraged; surrounded by so many unneedful things,
responsibilities, to-do lists.. none of it worth remembering
past a week, most of it neglected, put off.

She joked that she could only procrastinate one thing at a time,
but it was the truth. Life was depreciating faster than she could lay claim to the days
and meanwhile, everyone was beginning to die,
and the clocks hands were just more trips around,
Around and around without meaning,
till you became dizzy and sick with all the missing hours

the numbers jangled together, like passing mile markers so quickly you never read them,
feeling the time pass, like unmarked graves can tell nothing,
waiting for your number to appear,
waiting your turn at the turnstile, you were always waiting for something further down hill
that was almost invisible, and that was never going to appear while you were still looking.
And then there was that silent, unspoken brokenness in everybody she'd ever known-
which wounded her more, than any unexpected miscarriage at 3 am could have done.