Practice Is Learning How Not to Sink

During the solo
Meeting in the room
For practice alone,

People visit you—
People and their pets.
You know you’re dreaming,

Hallucinating
People who aren’t there,
But they’re returning

And you can’t stop them.
Dangling like convicts
From the ripped, white edge

Of drawing paper,
Just before dropping,
They’re consoling you.

Otherwise practice
This solitary
Would eat you alive.

On the other hand
They’re shadowy and
Alarming—oh, wait,

Dark water’s building
And the light’s fading.
You should be bailing.