Not easy, a round about draft...
~~~~~~
The Girl in the Plastic Hat Asks
If I'm a priest while resting a hand
on my chest, she loves priests.
I am wearing black,
the color of secrets, so she asks
if I'm married. Her questions
to the cadence of a teenage girl
on ecstasy popping her gum, until I feel
as if dozens of mosquitoes
have flown into my eardrums.
I want my annoyance to crack the air.
I want to tell her that like John Wayne
Gacy, I have 33 bodies in the crawl space
under my home. Like Bundy, I want her to help me
look for a dog that I've never owned--maybe
a collie, or pembroke welsh corgi. I want
to go home.
I am a taut wire.
I have no confession.
I perform no last rites
Shallow people lie
in shallow graves,
never quiet.
~~~~~~
The Girl in the Plastic Hat Asks
If I'm a priest while resting a hand
on my chest, she loves priests.
I am wearing black,
the color of secrets, so she asks
if I'm married. Her questions
to the cadence of a teenage girl
on ecstasy popping her gum, until I feel
as if dozens of mosquitoes
have flown into my eardrums.
I want my annoyance to crack the air.
I want to tell her that like John Wayne
Gacy, I have 33 bodies in the crawl space
under my home. Like Bundy, I want her to help me
look for a dog that I've never owned--maybe
a collie, or pembroke welsh corgi. I want
to go home.
I am a taut wire.
I have no confession.
I perform no last rites
Shallow people lie
in shallow graves,
never quiet.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson