who has more common sense than I do,
forcing me to keep from posting poems
that might get me even deeper
into trouble than I already am.
I want to stop posting completely,
but I can’t ,
so sometimes post things
that I can slip by my nanny
and still reveal how I feel,
though wisely avoiding anything
like the nuclear disaster
I posted when I put up
her roof top photo
and she demanded I take it down,
and when I eventually did,
promised to “burn my life”
if I posted anything else
that displeased her
a sadomasochist relationship
in which she holds the whip,
our livers governed by
these psychotic rules
where we struggle for our soul,
not so much good or evil,
right or wrong,
rather right to exist.
I exposed too much,
revealing what goes on inside me,
which leaves me vulnerable
as a sad sack fumbling along
after her long, black boots.
No comments:
Post a Comment