its’ carried
within you
it’s the mole
on your face
the sty
in your eye
the snarls
in your hair
the canker
in your mouth
the callous
on your hands
the knots
in your stomach
the cyst
on your back
the blister
on your foot
and the bunion
Look What
he’s done

I have cared enough
Not anymore
Now I am free

it can't be you.

you are too lucky.
in all.
(no, not all)

you are too fortunate.
always stumbled across success.
(you were raised by a beater,
alcoholic)

but you are a survivor.
you are. you are.

you can't have been on that plane.
no you just cant. you can't.
it's not like you.
(but on sunday's you almost always are)

i long for your reply.
"no thank god i'm fine"
(my god. you are not usually this silent)

.

rest well.

Children, fresh as bib lettuce,
Green and tender,
Stand before me in my rocking chair,
Pearled new teeth,
Wisping hair, golden, brown,
Embarking up a stair way
That I am going down.

"Papa, can we go out to play?"
I look out the window
To see the kind of day
Before I say,
"Would you like to take a walk?"