the first time I saw Algernon
I was sure, God existed,
but He'd looked away for a second too long
and Algernon was bred, born in that shadow
of the Lord's lashes

the first time I saw Algernon,
the world felt wider
and it all lead to his hands
every road outstretched to meet his feet

Algernon made my life feel precarious,
like it'd topple
delicate as a tightrope of cornsilk
and he tugged on it as so

the first time I saw Algernon,
his eyes bore into me
chipped away at me
like patient cleave to reluctant marble

if a feeling could be a man,
summarily, he was a wrenching kind of curiosity
just like when I'd have that dangerous appetite
to flip to the final page of the book I'd only just begun,
far too ahead of myself
just to see
pore over those unexpected words
though I knew it would only be trouble

the trouble with trouble
is that I am, in some sick way,
eager to see it

the trouble with Algernon was
he kept wise
and kept me none the wiser

he looked on me as a child would a bird with a broken wing
morbidly
I cannot help you, but for the sake
of my yet untainted conscience,
I will convince myself I can
and let you die somewhere I can see
like the final page

and the cats tongue I ended up on
the band around my finger
the bite that never lost its teeth

the first time I saw Algernon,
it was a repetition of motion
some calculated corrosion

like gnashing fang
and shadow
and outstretching road
and patient cleave

and he was much,
too much

like me