The music is beautiful, but it sounds:
Like grasshoppers popping in the lawn
Like shooting squirrels with a BB gun from the porch
Like playing boats in the gutter
I gave up the sport
Because it hurt to watch the leaves go down the drain
I’m afraid of spring.
I don’t want to be confronted by all these new, alive
things
I feel safer when there’s nothing precious
underfoot
And I pay tithe in avoidance
Rabbits eat in the yard
And it’ll kill them one by one.
I know they’re just made that way
They don’t have a choice
But I’m not, and I do.
I want to be soothed
Please let me be soothed
I have a migraine
And I want someone to sing me to sleep.
I am never ever a small thing
I am afraid of what awaits that kind of animal
And I will not go to the places I fear
I’m an amalgamation of love for the world
And rejection of where that leaves me—
And sometimes when I imagine myself
All I see is ephemerality
In my desperately cupped, too-small hands.
