I’m packing my bags
Carrying them to the street
And standing between.
Black bee sting lingers,
Spreading its poison over
And over again.
Brother’s Alzheimer’s
And family dysfunction
And friends’ critical words.
A small girl cowers,
Ineffectively shielding
From vicious attacks,
While the enemies
Grow drunk in their ecstasy
That she is broken.
Crisp December first,
Soul having flown suddenly
From the still badger.
In love with you, life
I don’t know which or both or
Who you are yet, love