It Is Best

It Is Best


I will love non other than my wife
in the future, it is clearer now
she mends bodies
mine can rest

Listen here
let me show you my best side
see me
kicking up dust
try
to see me in good light
I am your mother
hear me!
I am all you need
house me!
I am your mother

You’re lying!
you can’t be trusted
I saw you in the daylight
stuffing the silver in your pockets
walking out the door—
you
can’t be trusted

No matter that I talk to myself
I live
in the future
where silversmithing doesn’t exist
and you will be dead then
when I have my ruly wife
in a house
on a limb

She will shine my eyes,
with gold
detoxify the rest
mend me, and
knowing but not knowing why
see
the holocaust
of its death—
she will sense it
in my words, I will tell her
of the mourning
this is best

Of why I will want to forget
the unthinkable—
you
you, something else

Hear me!
there is no future
in smelting down unspoken truths
then
trying to sell the end product
on the black market
to strangers—
to the rich—
who end up buying you

I was your family
I drank your blood
quisling!
where are you now, then?

No matter
my wife just walked through the door
leave me
mother,
it is best—

to me
you are dead