Go and buy yourself some candy.
On the broken road, walk and move
from one swarm of bees to the next. Go
suck on death like it was a jube jube
and kill all devotion and loyalty with your need for
acceptance by even the squinty-eyed and nasty.
There’s a horse on my lawn, but no one will mention
his name. I know his name and I know the light that
touches his forelock. Go, it is not your horse. He is not
your companion. He knows me because we bless
one another, we have lovely days together and we do not
betray them. But you, you
are empty and have no belonging here where my fireflies roam.
You have no horse to love and who loves you back.
You have the movement and the desperate need for approval.
You have your candy. Now go:
It may surprise you, but blood
is on your hands.
© Copyright, 2012, Allison Grayhurst.
All rights reserved.