wince at the nails, my body is a constant healing, it is a
church i stopped going to, out of guilt.
did i tell you that my elementary school burned down?
well it did.
i try to write about my childhood as an inferno, try to remember the way
flames licked up the cobblestones, did i tell you that
i tried to join the army, out of guilt, tried to
nail down the rug, stumbled like a fawn and ripped down the curtains, ripped
open this house. tiny workmen on the little ladders, sanding down the foundation.
did i tell you that, although acutely aware of the pointlessness,
i started praying again
but it came out all wet ash and menacing, all
threat and apology, i swear God,
let me be soft again or i'll
burn this whole place down.