—SOMETIMES I CAN’T HELP SEEING ALL THE WAY THROUGH

 

 

If

 

If I’m dying

If we’re all dying

If the ground shudders, the panes, roof, floor, my fingers

If everything trembles this much, God help us

If God becomes a politician

If God is merely a wizard behind a sheet

If God could just obliterate gun-lust

If guns were Banksy flowers instead

If flowers bloomed and bloomed and never died

If I could do things over again

If I’d seen The Bee Gees

If Wally hadn’t grabbed my collar

If I’d had more children

If I hadn’t drunk the entire jug of company Kool-Aid

If the walls could talk

If puppies could talk instead of getting sick and dying

If gay or they didn’t matter to anyone else but them

If no one was ever allowed to hurt a child in any manner

If my dad hadn’t fancied belts so much

If my mother would only leave me alone for once

If Lucy was still here, conked out, chasing rabbits in a faraway field 

If being lonely wasn’t so lonely and pathetic

If there were better metaphors for lonely

If if was a different word

If I’m dying

If we’re all dying, it seems reasonable and equitable

If I wasn’t writing this, chances are I’d be dead already