I wanted to be self-made

But I mined too deep too quickly

And now I’m tapped out.

Politics

But what was I doing before I sat at this table

Because all I’m aware of is how my legs tremble

They’ve born such a terrible weight.

And all around me these voices scream and fight,

Declaring one another to be hypocrites and liars,

Meanwhile I watch the dying funeral pyre.

When they finally grow weary and quiet

I ask them where we are and what’s the point of it,

And no one is really sure.

We’ve been fed something that doesn’t fill,

Just something to chew and mask the bile,

And each night we took it for communion

It helps us forget what’s become of this Union.

I watched one man wipe his face and cross the room

He looked out the cracked window at the prevalent gloom

And declared that something must be done.

And now that we’re sober because the wine is all gone,

We finally agreed.

Aesop’s Parable of the Dog and the Wolf

And suddenly I thought of this past year,

Of all I had lost

Because of a moment of weakness

One late night

And because I decided to keep

The dignity

Of owning that decision

Of carrying

The burden of freedom forever.

The bitch

Chewed the collar off her raw neck,

Ran off,

And danced with the starving wolf.

Clockwork

You were a perfect clock,

Attuned to the sun and moon.

Each night I would ask you,

“Wake me up at six,”

And you would

With a kiss,

A hug,

A brush of my hair.

And when you disappeared,

So dependent on you was I,

I stopped waking up.

Bone of Youth

I feel stagnated like a pool,

A breeding ground for insects.

Over me something looms

And to it I can’t put any name

Except uncertainty.

And all I want is to tear this

Bone of youth from my body;

It itches incessantly under the skin,

It drives me mad at midnight

As I achingly wait for the dawn

But longingly cling to the night.

It screams, “Hurry, hurry!”

And tortures me for my delay.

But it’s because I’m still charting

A course that won’t crash.

It’s true,

I’ve grown weary of sideway shuffles,

Tired of backwards stumbles,

And I dream of forward steps.

But every time I try,

My foot hovers over the plunge

And I slip my blindfold on

To lose sight and wander away,

All the while that bone screams,

“Jump, jump!”

May Saint Jude protect me.