once i saw caramel walking
on 10th avenue wearing her
pretty flowered dress when
she tore her stockings on
the curb
now my mother has to explain
she has killed herself for
her religion
mouths move but claim not to speak
people are dancing like robots
legs have become drums
movement is challenged by the thickness
passions in a box with figs
i burned the connecting webs
this is the process i use to
trick grief as i so often have
what can one do anyway with the
knowledge gained?
i could bite my fingernails
to take the edge off but
instead i’ll remind me i am
a scholar of pain