Debts

Local_Government_in_a_Country_Town-_Everyday_Life_in_Wotton-under-edge,_Gloucestershire,_England,_UK,_1944_D22024

I think I’m done posting weekly assignments for a while. I’m bored with them. I don’t know what I’d prefer to do with Mondays, but I’ll let you know what I come up with. I decided to write this poem instead, and then I spent about an hour thinking about whether it’s a good idea to post it. I give up. Here it is.

I have promised what I couldn’t deliver
more times than I can count,
and once again I sit to write
a poem to change the world.
Stupid girl.
I have promised more than I could deliver
too many times
to many men
to the blur-faced billions.
I have promised retribution to the evil
pretending I knew what evil was.
I have promised with the voice of an army
whose tanks are just my bones
whose bombs are only words
and fierce looks.
I have dug my grave with promises
jumped in and kept digging.
I am tunneling through the earth with promises.
I will always be paying these debts
And still I promise more,
every day falling in love
with the next heartbeat
promising my everything to each passing second
like a foolish girl who doesn’t know
that moments come and go
that men get lost on their way home
that children disappear
that time itself erodes
and still I am paying these debts
with all my faithfulness.

Monday Night Nonfiction: the robot
Apocalypse Poetry: From Satire to Sincerity

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