OURWHELM

Oh oh oh
Oh.

You have, overwhelmingly,
Underwhelmed me.
I’m not entirely sure you’ve whelmed me
At all.
I feel positively unwhelmed.
Perhaps even dewhelmed.
Anti-
Whelmed?

You washed over me
Like the sluice of a mop over a
Slightly grimy floor.
Maybe, for the sake of politeness, I should
Be slightly pseudowhelmed, or feign
A quiet quasiwhelm.

Too
Late.
You’ve noticed the space where the
Whelm should be. Its absence
Gapes mournfully
Whelmless.
The vacuum of our missing whelm sucks both our faces
Closer to it,
Drawn into its glaring black
Still silence.

I start to wonder whether our whelm had a hope,
Or if we were whelmless
Even before we were we.