I wish I could afford to be distracted
like the guy playing Wordle on his MacBook Pro
oblivious to the documentary on gender-based violence
on the massive screen twenty feet from his head
Instead I’m clenching my fingers around a ballpoint pen
and poking tiny holes in my paper, some small acupuncture
tingling legs and bloodless feet that don’t feel the floor below them
trying to pray, but I’m so lost, I can’t find God
though I know He’s everywhere, including this room,
watching me tremble and shaking his head
at how mankind could be wicked enough
to bring a girl to this complete petrification
