mom

it was something that i genuinely
didn’t want to do
(communion blew) but it was
all of it really (ugh and the singing)
and i hate that we see
the world so differently
but (you know what)
i should have done it anyway
because i love you
and it would have been good
to do something nice for you
for a change
i’m sorry
i’m so so sorry
for never telling you that enough

and i say this
as if something final
has already come to pass
as if i am dead
or (even worse)

you are dead
but you are here right here
kicking and screaming
with your book
so absopositively certain
that the atrophying pages in there
are more than paper

more than words
more than failed fossils
being manipulated to justify
this kill and this save

and (you know what)
maybe the bottom of the
barrel becomes me
but at least i take
responsibility for my swim with
my slimy newfound comrades
these pagan heroes
left in the corner of an old library
condemned for their
staggering lack of awareness.

guess this is left

there is a cocoon that was on fire
it is smoldering now
rapt with itself
in mourning over the little
pieces of butterfly
deep inside
unintentionally self-aborted
and it asks to be told of spring
fully content knowing it is
a season for some.