Wednesday, December 02, 2009



Whatever murderous rampage I snoozed through
is to be regretted. It is true, I have let
many millions of you down because
the ethos I inherited from a tottering aunt
a long time ago was not equipped
to deal with the inerrant allure of hydrochloric
acid. Please respect the privacy
of the darling bobbin in this time
when I won't say much, or shave the hair
which grows from my body
in embarrassing waves. Please know
how much I will think of you,
which is only a little. If you were insulted
by something I said, let me say
I remember nothing, that I am leaking in this instant
all the qualities of the living
which many philosophers agree
amounts to self-hood. Address
your letters, your get well never cards,
to Husk Formerly Trusted
With the Maintenance of Households
and the Health of Small
Creatures. I'm told this will reach me.
That a concordance of my shames will be recited
wherever I go, and, maybe
it's just me, that seems harsh,
the sort of punishment reserved
for the homeless, whose filthy habits I condemn.


Anonymous said...

Great poem, thanks for it.

Lisa said...

The get well never cards, the husk name...great work.