The Fire Poems, Part 6

6. I was going write a book on why I did it but decided to give it to you in poems instead because I’ve always been a coward.

This is my grocery list to you, my litany of lost things:
     Fragments of memory soaked in metaphor and Deeper Meaning (I’ve always been a bad poet)
     Apologies:
          (I’m sorry this won’t be what you’re looking for)
          (I’m sorry I’ve hijacked your home for a fucking poem)
          (I’m sorry that it isn’t the first time I’ve done this)
          (I’m sorry that I’m always doing shit like this, selfish to my bones)
          (I’m sorry that it stinks like formaldehyde, but that’s the only way to keep these arteries from hardening, to keep these muscles soft and shining)
          (Fuck. I’m sorry that I just did it again)
          (I’m sorry I burned the house down)
          (I’m sorry you were inside)
          (I’m sorry you escaped)
     Formalin
     Everything you lost in the fire:
          Toothbrush – 1 yours, 1 mine
          T-shirts – More than 15, less than all of them
          Light bulbs – 22, not counting the one in the kitchen that was out
          Houseplants – 5, but they were going to die anyway
          Bowls – 5
          Candlesticks for fancy dinners you always meant to have but never got around to – 2 sets
          The books
               Actually, forget about the books
               Everyone goes on and on about books, but you should miss the electricity instead
          Magnets that just sort of appeared one day and never left – 10
          Cans of diet coke – 7
          Chairs – 6
          Table – 1
          House – 1
                   But I did you a favor with that one, really.


Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

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