I'm Not Nearly Smart Enough

In My Godless Household, Poems Were The Closest We Came To Sacred Speech -- The Only Prayers Said.

Sure The World Breeds Monsters, But Kindness Grows Just As Wild.

Ten Years, She's Dead, And I Still Find Myself Some Mornings Reaching For The Phone To Call Her. She Could No More Be Gone Than Gravity Or The Moon.

I'd Spent Way More Years Worrying About How To Look Like A Poet -- Buying Black Clothes, Smearing On Scarlet Lipstick, Languidly Draping Myself Over Thrift-store Furniture -- Than I Had Learning How To Assemble Words In Some Discernible Order.

I'm Doomed To Act Like Myself, Even When It's Inconvenient!