Sunday, May 15, 2016

honesty hour

little ladders propped against ventricles, i see cartoon hammers and 
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. 

No comments:

Post a Comment