OCD (You Stop By To Tell Me How Cruel Life Is)

 

 
                                                 And then I tell you

you make me feel better. I eat the fruit

and the bread—the body, you say—and I go

so far as to eat the core and the vine

the vine the vine the vine                         even after

you’ve told me to stop. It’s cold in here,

I say, and you nod as if this were

the simplest math in the world. I ask you

to stay, and still you go. I eat the vine

until my gums bleed, but you ignore me.

You cast me out as if I were silver water

on a blood lake. I offer coffee and more bread

but you’re already gone, and the offer is left

hanging only only only only                         only for the sake

of a doorknob. Please, I say, to no one, don’t

leave me open like this. I’ve left the door

unlocked for you.

 

 

Share

Leave a Comment