An Uncomfortable Poem.*

Kicked your dog? Beaten your wife, husband, kids?
Cheated on your spouse, your taxes, a test? Cursed god?
Had *** to get something? Done a *******? A babysitter?
Shot ******? Been a secret alcoholic? ****** to inflict pain?
Sold drugs, your integrity, your body? Been *****? ***** someone?
Bullied a weaker soul? Kicked someone already down?
Betrayed a confidence, a lover, a coworker, your country?
Hit and run? Been in prison? Stolen money, credentials, a poem?
Alienated your partner, your children, the world?
Killed someone in a battle, a street fight, by accident?
Broken a heart on purpose? Been cruel? Lied for advantage?
Walked away from another’s pain? Sold out love? Spurned it?
No? Never? Not one? Not once? Really? Perhaps you are a Saint.
Only one person knows these things for sure.
What we leave out becomes our Gothic narrative of secrets.
The wheels within our wheels within our wheels. Churning.
   *We are what we choose to reveal. Only that, no more.
    Everything else hidden behind a closed, locked door.

I love fake things.  the tasered clown.  the sheep my young father remembers being sliced like bread.  the paper shredder that kept some animals from entering the time machine.  the baby in riot gear.  the other baby telling itself not to move.  the blood’s blood type.

hold me down to the
stage;
today
I cannot make pretty songs of us
like
how much I weigh
I'm one hundred and thirty three pounds
in love with you
I'm
twenty eight years too old and
twenty eight years away from your legs
I'm
blonde
I'm
a lady
a waiting woman
making food,
away from your mouth
I'm making
mistake after distaste for
this pattern this
extra pace for shapes that
never fit us so
when I get dressed and when I
detest it I'm
trying something new I'm
having
nothing to do with you

1.

Sorry*
for gasping attempts
to distill something cruelly,
intangibly pure
on a page from nowhere.
I’ve done this
in lieu
of any useful gesture

2.

Sorry
I was late

3.

Sorry
I always say
'There are Worse Things Than…'

4.

I am sorry I froze
when all the worst things
crowded icily around your bed