Reaped
"Oh, hey."
"Hi."
"So...soon?"
"Now."
"Oh. Kinda early, huh? I mean, I di-"
"I don't really work on other people's schedules."
"Ha. I figured."
"..."
"So, any advice?"
"It will hurt. Don't try to find the reason, or purpose. You are dirt flowing into soil, experiencing the cycle. Nothing has really changed."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Can you just, like, tell them, eventually? When you seem them."
"Tell your children everything? Even-"
"Yes."
"Very well."
"...One last thing?"
"What."
"I won't, FEEL, anymore, right?"
"Yup."
"Good. Thanks."
Long Way Down
Will you speak?
No, your tongue is lead
And your voice trembles your stomach
Will you perform?
No, your fingers are rubber
And sweat paralyzes your every joint
Will you kiss?
No, because in the bowels of their eyes
You see only pity and disgust
And know that in your heart
The depths of the soul
You are failure
Unless you make the jump
But it's a long way down
A long, long way down
Sister
My little sister loved eggs.
Every time we went over to Aunt Mary’s house,
With her coops of cocks and chickens,
She had to see some freshly laid
Eggs.
And although everyone warned her that
The white and yellow would drip all down her legs,
Making wet all of her crevices and bends,
She still was surprised
When the yolk
Bled
Out.
But sometimes, I like to think
That those white shells
Remain whole
Somewhere.