Babalon Working


tenderness

                                          meat falling off the bone


I am not alone in this


                                                        when I say I’ve cried on the subway


              coming home at night


                                                        & it wasn’t because I wanted to


the way the scenery runs against


                                                                      the window is like seeing visions of the future


I dip my feet in a stream in summer


                                                                      & my white skin glows beneath white water


I am

                            perhaps clawed              probably soft              never honest


their futures

                                          I carry in my eyelids


I am made entirely of an explosion in Nevada


I failed from personal jealousies             I failed from respectability

I failed from indifference to Work          I failed from indecision


I failed as elsewhere is on record


              I had no child & so the world is not yet perfect


There is something

                                          in the pit of my stomach


                                                                                               & it is gnawing me


telling me not to grow bigger                 not to stop walking                   not to sit down

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