when the blood poured out of me
Her stories read loud and
She spends punctuation like it’s going out of style.
His voice is tinny
(advances in telephonic technology be damned), oh
How in the world is she
Supposed to hear that over her yammering heart?
She has read him,
She has read to him,
She believes every word he says.
He doesn’t know the truth;
He never has,
So how could he possibly be lying?
She bore the brunt of his profound
Still she wants to level with him,
She wants to explain
(all the beseeching long ago done).
Her inability to dismiss key factors
–hey, ignorance notwithstanding, and
dignity still of some small, grave importance–
Causes them to fall from her swollen, untired mouth,
These words, this towline between them:
“You weren’t there when the blood poured out of me and I became someone else.
“You weren’t there at all.”
::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::
No, I’m not asking much of you / Just sing, little darling, sing with me / So much I know, that things just don’t grow / If you don’t bless them with your patience