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Staple Guns You sweated through my infancy. Other parents moaned and groaned At changing diapers in the night. You were sizing body casts. Rolling slowly with the gurneys Taking me away from life. Courting questions silently, You wondered if IÆd walk at all. Sine qua nons of crew-cut smiles. SorrowÆs toast, a poison posture only done behind a door. Fortitude was staple guns for organizing crisis clouds. The military attitude of Recognizing, bearing fate. In your eyes were pilot wings Convincing me that I could fly. Our atlas and our almanac was just this tiny brittle phrase: ìt could, of course, be worse, of course...I Listen blankets growing cold. PityÆs moths, they come with fleas. You didnÆt want your soul or mine to make itself a breeding ground. I only wish I could have cried. Shared the never spoken stuff. Listen blankets never stayed. Agony on one you love is very, very hard to fold.
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[Snarl! of the month] [I Don't Care What You Think] |
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