You’ll be coming off three days on the night shift
when you realize there was no sugar
in the bottom of the cup, no bottom
of the cup for that matter. Sometime
after your last 12-step meeting
you’ll know you’ll always walk wounded,
limp home. Those wounds in your hands
won’t heal; they’ll be a sign to all,
especially you. You’ll walk around clean,
feeling the hole in your own side,
wondering if this was the glorious
published around 2005 in the now defunct web journal, The New Pantagruel
why is it that everyone comes out of a twelve step meeting limping? must be the seats
oo nice spiritual imagery…being ones own god can come with some nasty side affects…smiles.
Brian – interesting. I agree with you, but I never thought about it exactly that way, and I wrote the darn thing… 🙂
There’s always a price to pay — good choice of metaphor! Very well done!
You remind me of a jivey Nick Flynn, with humor
Thanks! (note to self – read up on Nick Flynn)
🙂 haha. He’s much darker, but you have his wit. Or he has yours. Or what-have-you
I bet you’d like (if you don’t already) Matthew Dickman. He has a poem in narrative called “Benevolence” that’s awesome, and “Grief” in The New Yorker and “Blue Sky” at http://bombsite.com/articles/5004
Check him out, I think of him to reading yours
Sorry I’m back again. Yeah. But here’s the link to “benevolence”
“father outside” by Nick Flynn
K. I’m done.
I really like both of these. I’m honored by the comparison.