Unthinkable,
but here I am 
thinking of it.

Could I put this into
second person, put it
at a cool remove and thus

deny it a bit? Unthinkable,
but there you are now
in this, thinking of it.

Now we two turn our faces
to the third person in here
with us — unthinkable?

There they are, looking
at what’s on the table — 
the bottle, the pills,

the long screed that 
explains without
explanation. You and I

and them, of course. 
It’s unthinkable to be
dispassionate. So

why aren’t any of us
bereft, or trembling?
You start. No, you.

Maybe it should be me.
You go, and take them with you.
Unthinkable to be accompanied

on the way, I think. I’ll
think of you when I go.
Yes, I promise. Now,

close the door, I think,
on the way out. Unthinkable
things require solitude

and it feels so crowded
in here, I can’t even
approach the table.