“Disposal”

I have stuck my mouth as close as I could

to the hole of the garbage disposal flipped

the switch and screamed.

As a child I had the fear of god

of fiber glass of being like my mom

of fire ants of sticking my fingers in the sink

and being sucked into the drain and to this day

I still wear gloves to go into the attic and

do the opposite of my mother’s advice and

avoid dirt mounds with open toed shoes but

I still ask too much.

Where does the long

tongue of the hummingbird go, I ask?

Does it coil in wrap around the brain to snake out behind

the eyes?

When great poets fall do we still heed their advice or

do I reject the full weight

of the mock orange by the window, I ask?

Do I pretend I am no longer in love?

To all that I leave I hope it helps to know

I’m sorry.

I don’t want to be happy, I answer.

I want to be justified.

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