Poetry Return to Index

someday I will care only for
the boy attracted to gardens
and embarrassed when caught
who is happy with his thin
arms and legs being tickled
by grass, alone

I was always afraid,
but also fully capable of
brutality, of being the one
who smashed the fish open
when the hook wouldn't
come out

there may be no meaning
in my blonde legs splattered
with foul-smelling blood

I don't trust my childhood;

What are we doing here
on this body of water
we are learning to compete
to become superior

surely the bitterness of death
has passed and we don't need
to do this, I have nothing left
satisfy my pride and I will be
happy and never row again
victory is forever

as a boy I never dreamed
I would suffer like this
with the sunlight in the tears
in my eyes my body crying
because it's a bitch I thought
it would all be very easy