leaving my therapist’s office after a breakthrough

As soon as I unlock my phone,
out falls a tiny mother
asking her grown son to call
                                                          back when he finds the time plz,
out falls the strained voice of a debt
                  collector after several
                  attempts to reach you,
                                                                  out falls a school
                                              with a shooter & everything,
                  out falls a riot, out falls a child
texting another child how scared she is
                                                   from under her desk
        with all the curtains
drawn, out falls
                                an election,
                                a special election,
                                a compromised election,
                                & another smoked quartz riot,
out falls a pair of unconcerned liquid gold legs at a hotel pool,
out falls Tommy Le’s pen,
                   Sandra Bland’s signal light
                   a stack of Alton Sterling’s bootleg CDs, out falls
                   a powerful man awash in disgrace & another terrible man
                                                                                           & another terrible man
                                                                                           & Jesus —
                             until out falls Janelle Monaé,
        plentiful & perfect
                                               -ly formed.
At what point, exactly, does grief start?
                                                                                   This onslaught of self-
                                                                                   portraits in convex mirrors—
                                                                                   each moment more upside down
                                                                                   was to know what time it was.
                                                      pǝʇuɐʍ I llɐ ⅋
                    ˙sɐʍ ʇᴉ ǝɯᴉʇ ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ oʇ sɐʍ