Sadder Than Thou
Tears fill the bottom of this boat.
My tin can leaks. We are sinking.
The telephone rings
I hear her cry into the receiver.
I am tired of being the receiver.
What about you?
You are family, too.
You, you, you (yes I'm shouting)
you try standing in the shadow of her grief
longer than his coffin.
You try finding sun
for your own sadness.
By the way,
it is your turn to inhale
the sour smell of her sorrow.
I listen
God knows
God knows
I try to console her.
I'm cut off.
I hang up.
She has your number, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment