—EVERYTHING HERE IS FRAGILE 

This is Not a Love Poem (Part 2)

  

     I tell myself Go to Hell because there’s no one else around

I tell the trees and the lake and those ducks I love so much Go to Hell

    When my friends call I stare at their throbbing names but don’t pick up and instead tell the screen Go to Hell

I tell God Go to Hell

     I tell the air and sun and some men on a moon I can’t even see Go to Hell

I tell this chair and stained carpet Go to Hell

     I tell the spiders dangling on panes Go to Hell then tell their unborn babies Go to Hell too

I tell the Christians I know Go to Hell

     I tell the grandchildren I will never have Go to Hell

I tell those airhead dogs frolicking in the water Go to Hell

     I tell history George Washington and Gandhi Go to Hell 

I tell this cup of coffee the eagle and beaver electric vehicles and every poem or loaded love song Go to Hell

     I tell Lucy’s ghost Go to Hell

I tell myself Go to Hell again

     I don’t tell Satan Go to Hell because he’s already seated wiping a bloody scepter across His lips while every doting star winks on command