A Poem I Hate

6/8/25

I’m waiting to be sent away like a spotted child in straw hay

Like a sickness bred in birth

And you’re assiduous in the kitchen and I don’t ask to stay

There’s one thing to feel it’s not mirth

The backyard water is growing and getting warmer by the day

My hands cry for soap to rid of this earth

It’s June and it’s sunny in a nostalgic emotionless way

Put out the fire just admire the hearth

You’re crossing bloody feet like some rotted bones in an entree

Keep looking forward it shines to the north

And I know you’ll say that tile isn’t stained we’ve got enough spray

To ignore the blood and all dearth

To wipe away the whole damn house and its memories at bay

I couldn’t tell you the pain has worth

When the black water keeps rising and I plead for rain anyway

So is it because they ruined mother’s skirt

Is it because you’ve trained us to obey and never look away

Or the mud out back can’t return to dirt

Or is it because June could never dry more than a father’s prey

It’s a nightshirt son you’re cursed since birth

It’s the day of the rose and we gather outside for time’s yesterday

Tell me to go and say it won’t hurt

Tell me to go and say every day is yesterday for boys who run away

Tell me to go and say it gets worse

— ODH