Thursday, May 20, 2021


Perhaps, this hate 
which you gave 
to others 

was love 
whose two vowels had

and evaporated 

in the friction 
which resulted 
from the 

toil of 


Perhaps, this anger 
which you once wielded
like a sword 

was patience 
gone sour—

not because 
its presences was 
unwelcome at dinner,

but just
from being left out 

on the counter too long 


Perhaps, this sadness 
which you cannot seem 
to rinse clean

was joy 
that's now threadbare 

from being stretched  
too aggressively 

for too long around 
too many 

ungainly things.