Out Like a Lamb

Never Really Right

I am 52, a deck of cards. I am never really right
in the noggin, nor handed, nor politically aligned
although for one of them I lied to suit the stanza

and yes I am a liar, saving feelings or to sidestep
baby showers, birthday parties, sometimes work
or when my friends or family ask how I am doing

and I am doing puzzles, painting by the numbers
a stick of glue to hold collages to their promises
to piece together things in pleasant compositions

and I compose fool poetry that usually goes dark
(I've got those daddy issues, everyone can see it)
and I am sorry so often I become the big apology

and I am sorry here I go again I need another day
another pill, another pipeful, prompt, a master plan
or maybe just another spring to turn inside my soul.


note ▼

April 21—Explore a specific aspect of your personality, behavior, or identity in a poem.

*I am right handed, hence the lie in the first stanza