Q. and A.
Q. When will you die?
A. Not this morning not in the middle of April
snow hanging
like periods no like ellipses in gray air troubling
the kitchen window
Two birds leap from
branch to branch showering snow
on frozen puddles
Curled onto the loveseat
the dog
thumps her tail in a dream
eyes rolled into her skull
Q. What is your purpose?
A. I must disturb the order of people and things
I need to make trouble
After all nothing itches more under my skin
than a classroom full of silent students their eyes cast
down or trained on empty windows
hands loose on the tables
Q. Is there a god?
A. Sometimes I watch Lizzie
while she bends
smiling over a book or her phone or her computer
long neck her father's neck lit yellow
by soft lamplight
gaze melted into herself
generous lips her father's lips pursed into a small smile
long thick hair her father's hair spilling down
wide shoulders my shoulders my narrow eyes
her father's cornflower blue
and before she looks up
before she catches me
trying to memorize her beautiful face
I shout at her in my mind:
hey kid sweetie darling
sugar pie I hope you know how much I
love you so much I want to crack myself open
and bleed all over the world
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