Three Things That Fall Together in an Oddly Appropriate Synthesis

January 20, 2008

That Tell me I am not Mad

Bette Davis’ illegitimate child rides the bus
cursing about everything foul
in her mother’s voice.
I hear it in my sleep, though Bette
never said “shit”
so visciously- so vehemently
or even at all, that I remember.

The clock is both enemy and friend:
sometimes I fear the end of the day,
sometimes I beg for it.
When the season turns and it isnt quite dark
coming out of the building; the sky
is a mass of grosgrain ribbons spilling sunset
into curdled milk clouds,
the spirit lifts.

I smile secretively at my own reflection.
I know I, at least, will not spill the secrets
I carry, will not say the words that no one knows
I have behind my tongue.
Shhhh, this is the truth. You are safe, it is only
me that waits behind the wall.