Poem: Where I Went Wrong
Me, who can’t ever pick the best line at the supermarket checkout. Me, who fumbles one love affair into another. Me, who doesn’t dress as well as he might, or get a proper haircut, or read the right books — me.
Yes, I’m the one who botched it up so badly that the primrose tide washing over sorrowful memories can’t ever cleanse the blood from wounds that never seeped.
Like a beating heart in the timid breast of a worried finch, a creature who knows his place in the world is to be prey.
When will I hunt? When will I rule the most meager kingdom: my fleeting fiefdom?
Everything for everyone everywhere is always if only.
Even me, who ought to know better.