Apologies To Suicides

Excerpted with permission from High Noon and the Body

(Yoda Press 2010)

1.

I’m sorry about the bathrobe.

Of all the ways to go, or almost

go, it shouldn’t be in just

your bathrobe.

2.

My Mama hates you now.

She thinks that once the reading

period was over, that couch was made

for loving. And being drunk off your ass,

in love, was not what she meant.

3.

I should have taught you

how to load a gun

better, son.

Click-click in your head,

click-click you’re dead.

It would have meant more

without the letter.

4.

I know you told me 12 hours

of how you like it and

5 ways you tried to make it go -

but baby, you’re my 4th suicide fuck

and I just don’t remember which

poison’s yours.

5.

And I didn’t know I’d find you all -

or even that there are so many.

As the dead go, so goes my nation

off of roof tops.

6.

Love I walked that edge. So I never

needed to say, “Won’t you come

on down?” You would come down.

It’s just the taste of ledge

you want, reminding you

where you stand.

7.

I’m not coming up there.