How do you write a poem
about yourself
when you don't even know why
you scratch at your leg until it bleeds
like the leaky thoughts in your head
that run more quickly than an itchy
spider bite
that nipped your neck at night
and you threw out the window
two stories down
and it fell like a poisonous asteroid
onto the sleeping cricket
who gave luck to you
when you sat for hours on a branch,
a protrusion of an apple tree
that one dying dusk night
in which a silk string lowered down
to your shoulder and a widow spoke
apologizing for scaring you
but don't you know I can't forgive myself
and I can only apologize to you
and say I am sorry because
I Love You has gotten packed away
and I don't even know why.