choke down your pretext
throw a line
a wiretap
dots and dashes make a ribbon
confessions are best said
gift-wrapped
avoid his eyes
what could be worse?
label me a lunatic and
lock me in the house
i cannot feel this in public
know that if i could
i would scoop out my
fragile little brain and
let you try it on
see how you are scratched
on the walls?
feel how you destroy
objectivity?
then tell me now
how I might explain
love in any other way
than confessions at midday
and the quiet refusal
to believe the harboring
truth
By Kallen Mohr