(no subject)

[ursula]

I've been attempting to write poetry for some contest that involves the words peace and justice. This sort of effort is depressing and ultimately doomed.

things I learned growing up

I. everything can be broken

all you need to powder anthrax is a bag of glass marbles and a washing machine
says my father the engineer, fitting lizard tiles side-by-side in the bathroom
my father the conscientious objector says one time in the barracks he got a funny feeling
and a shell hit and his friends died right where he’d been standing
my mother shies from packages in train stations remembering
bombed-out storefronts in seventies London

II. everyone is broken

acid squeaks between his teeth and afterwards
he walks into every room and looks behind the mirrors for someone watching
she lets him fuck her up the ass ‘cause she doesn’t want him closer
he put a plastic bag over his head and waited to die

III. so what

after a shower the green tiles are like a jungle
her husband grills mushrooms for dinner
I was born anyway and
fuck it all maybe I love you