HURT
DIGGING IN THE DIRT TO FIND THE PLACES WE GOT HURT
Yesterday a friendly +handsome roofer leaned in close
He said: Are you afraid to get your hands dirty? Now
handing me a.. (would this be brothers un-pc joke ie.,
You’d pet anything ?) No! He handed me a moist bundle
Twigs foam caulking No one has ever given such a gift
to me
Yes Corey roofer of my dreams my hands are dirty Quite
sullied from my years spent in the trenches of humanity With
the suffering Digging in the dirt as husband #3’s analyst in a
Brixton accent said of Psychotherapy He also regularly chimed
re my biting wit: She said that!? Yes I did
Now I sit with this early nest discarded as Peregrines ate the
first chicks of house wrens Corey also said: I want you to feel the
moisture my dear Such a gentle roofer And feel it I did Perhaps
a little birdy-blood on fingertips Wash as I might this stigmata is
permanent Reminding me of fledgling parts of Self They never saw
the light of day Couldashouldawoulda Actor Dancer Rodeo Queen
As Corey left he said: Now pet this Stiff upper lip fancy lady This
here leak may never reappear That’s the thing about water + beauty
One is wily and the other indifferent I sit back +marvel at my roofer’s
dialectic and wish I had met him years ago Before exile set in
__
Homo Sapiens is the only species
to suffer psychological exile.
E.O. Wilson
Spring 2018
songanddancegirl 