We lived so long
thinking you were
the body of my thoughts

The beauty mark that I
Loved and saw
As the best part of me

But you were malignant
When I showed you
In the light to the world

I turned you into
An ordinary freckle
That I wear upon my body

The day I decided
You'd be nothing more
Than a blemish in my memory

I was never the type
of child that obeyed
much  of anything;
not even the many
times  I was told
not to stare into
the evening sun
when I felt
alone.

I am at my best at early a.m. when I click
the radio on and listen to NPR
interviews of people from

countries like Scotland, Nigeria, and Italy;
not long ago I heard a Swede tell how
he pickles Harbor

seal meat,  and a day ago  a Mexican
who was shot through the tailbone
by a child with a .22 rifle

argued  her country has pitiful
accommodations for
the handicapped.

Learning of the Swede, Mexican,
and slain seals liven me;
and then the sun rises.