By Patricia Walsh

It’s your turn to be disappointed again

A domestic violence once deployed

Preserving cigarettes for the next destroyed,

An iron bar pesticide was threatened several times.

Needing to straighten out and fast.

Taking credit for glories subdued.

Frustrated by actions in and out of school,

Being hung to dry in a matter of time.

The child taste avoided still excoriates me

Looking knackered to Mass despite effort

Being the local joke coming into the fray

Efforts of aggrandizement fall quickly.

Smoking, of course, for a small fee.

No pleasure of sending souls to hell

Going postal for misdemeanors, shamed

By going about my business, erratic, of course.

Watched intently, from the comfort of honors

Attained through prayer, and sometimes fear

Enough to subdue the least of your sisters

Shaming for posterity, my self same actions.

Stuff I don’t even know about, uncovered

In a sleeping eye, watching at will

Enough to nail me to the cross I carry

Not capable of caring, a criminal forever.


Published on January 1st, 2023




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