The Bow of the Ancient Tree

Never wanted to enter a position of need

Addiction even as a crumb

Was avoided so that principles became heroin

An opiate long sense dulled

After the mercy of God dried bitter raisins

The wine, the grape flesh, the bacteria in the blackness

Saw the vineyard wither and the soil salted

Maintained allegiance until the silence became too loud

Mother said, “Do not put the cardboard down your throat.”

The boy choked

Saw the older sibling like Cain

Maybe the boy was able to die each day like an anorexic under control

Obey authority and see where that gets you

The ambivalence of who was in the line first for who actually passes the door

Sit at your desk and do not think that

The stockings of his fourth grade teacher made his penis feel as he looked at her in the pew

Study son, the books will light the catacombs

Sidelines lost in a mind of cartoons and squeaking restrooms

Writing pages on carpet wondering where the souls are

Toy box and pad locks changing for physical education uniforms

Drunk in a hot tub on prom night alone dressed in a pilsner suitcase

Couples inside thinking about flowers and dance steps

Wheels spinning and requisitioning orders for instructions for growing up

Never received in the eaves of trying not to be like Cain

Busted teeth and the lumber of hiding the speech

The attention tasted like cocaine to make a boy want to break his own legs

Crawled into the masochism like a fish knife to the gullet, three root canals in a day

Boy the boy could take pain

Needle to the palate, rub the numb, but spare the kryptonite paste

Prefer the sting over the scent of the common wish

The boy has found his rebellion of how he was not built to be like them

Frankenstein with a flipper

Amygdala on haywire the rubbing alcohol, the mint, the coffee, the chocolate

The bubble gum speech, the dancing, the pop, the canopy, the touch

The man was built to live in a desert

The sign says you want this; fuck you; I don’t

Hypocrisy like slitting a throat

Never a slip like attempting a musical note

Fear in the stitching of not wanting to admit there is no them

There is only this choice and time

That the litany of the bitter and the sweet

From coffee to chocolate, to the grind of posing for attention

To wear that shirt or sound off like that pop expert

Are mental excuses that it did not hurt

The boy wanted to play and no one came

Count on no one; only the self

Boo fucking hoo!

Get up

Decide what you wish to be and go be it

Decide what you wish to do and go do it

So it was and was done; written and sung

Dashed and crashed, raised and half-saved

Knowing alone is only so strong

There are some feats impossible to the solitary

So it is pliable principles are stronger than the absolute

The hurricane bows the ancient tree

So it is I come to you God in supplication

To guide and let this be