marriage is a
mystical thing––
i vowed & i
failed.
but you were the
woman i really
wanted & needed
(so help me God).
20 years of seeking &
loneliness is the proof of
this.
& the misery of smelling my
own tearful stench for so
long.
how can i know this
after so much
time?
perhaps it is the incre
mental wisdom of age or
the dying away of the
ego of denial––
(my father’s shadow since i
was a child).
but there was then the un
relenting weeping of your
heart (inciting my fear of raw
emotion) & your mother’s fateful
torturing spear;
the time you locked
yourself in the bathroom &
i swore in my bones that i
needed to leave & took the
advice of the catholic therapist
who lied to me that i
should.
since then, a
life of guilt &
emptiness into
which my roots have
grown––
out of which i’ve
tried to
flower.
i ask you to for
give me so i
can begin to for
give my mourning
self.
i beg you to for
go the satisfactions of
smouldering anger & the
bitter savour of
hate.
in turn, i will lay a
side my stunting fears &
blind self-loathing
& see you (as i always
really have) the brassy,
blue-eyed girl in the lovely
straw hat that i dearly
always wanted to
marry––
but never (until this day) knew
how.