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i have given a name to my pain and call it dog
i can tell it to sit, lay down, roll over play dead,
i scold it and shame it and pretend it’s my bitch!
and though it worries my carcass and growls and shits
It gives me a leg up… on profundity!
i have given a name to my beauty and call it snake
i observe it wind my hand, delicate as flowers, ferocious as fangs
i tell it: “Pulse danger! swallow blind mice!”
and though its little murders do not ripple the still-watered universe,
it’s all about ego, feeling groovy..
i have given a name to my anger and call it cockroach
i fatten it with booze and candy; it waxes petty and cruel
i chase it to squash it, curse its very existence
But because it incites war in the bowels of men,
It does me some good, keeps them in check.
i have given a name to my disease and call it devil
sad devil, mean spirited, jealous, and cruel
I know the fiend called devil is the blindness called life,
Still I shout hazah! with the rest:
It appeases. Why not?
I have given a name to my sadness and call it god
i tell it: “You are dead. Long live you?”
i command, “Sit! Stay! Roll over – at least fucking play dead!”
And though it is just as obtrusive, entertaining and shameless as any other god
thankfully there are others. I pray.
