december 19, 1998
the puritans
wore dense black coats &
starched white collars
tight around the
neck.
where did they learn to
be so
angry?
& you, Robert Livingstone,
are an adulterer.
how would puritan justice
handle
that?
on the other
open hand,
why shouldn’t we be in
love all the
time?
with women flaring like
dogwood blossoms &
men mystified by the
sight &
smell.
love is the law.
who wrote these
rules that shackle our
hands & halter our
breasts?
why be ashamed, Robert
Livingston?
need it all be so
secretive? did you
really dirty the sheets
so
badly?
it’s true, you hate
clinton, but don’t you
hate women
more?
& aren’t you shamed by
the broken child in your
heart who longs for
the teat of his
mother?
why can’t we run
naked in the spring
air without proper sadists
whipping us and
gouging our flesh with
hooks?
& what are they
afraid
of?
confess on your knees to
impress the crowd,
but you’re only
lying about
life, just like the
others.