For those who are teasedPity thoseMore Like This
who throw knives
at your back,
and they're left
with porcelain skin,
and broken knives.
You're not a failure for failingHer small, anxious handsMore Like This
grabbed the cup, a bit too large
as it slipped down and tumbled to the ground,
the milky mess covering the carpet:
her mother let out a disapproving sigh
and rolled her eyes,
“Will you ever do anything right?”
and that’s when she began
to limit her aspirations,
so that her dreams would never be too large,
so she’d never make any mistakes
she’d never again drop the cup,
but she’d never have enough to drink.
Macabre deliveryHe assumed that his niece would not be with us in the coming days after and he mentioned I had macabre delivery which I apologized in advance or was it after for? She’s still alive, with us, in bed, coughing up blood, dying for twenty years. Then I miss the call, but the death bell rings once again and as if to compensate for the fate, the fact that she is still with us we hear that a good friend is confined to his bedchamber himself but it is not he who is ill…More Like This
Just as we were speaking of death and Yuletide, his non-widow tells us he is alive but not of emotions well, will be whisked off to the new world to bury his year end, fraternal dead. And father jokes, jests to me in sadness and I understand it too…I give ill luck in terms of my conversation topic choices…we talk of death…
…then receive call outs, over the phone singular obituaries…could have written it in my sleep.