Psalm
I haven’t written in months / A poet
should be a prismatic, faceted chrysalis
Cabochon sentiment is vulgar, unpublishable
“No more breakup poetry, please”
Say the glittering butterflies / And so
I haven’t written in months
The political climate leaves me speechless
I want to hurl breakup poems-slash-javelins
at the politicians who revile me / And
pin their wings for once / Help me
I’m trapped in a bruising marriage
with this red-handed Nation / I can’t leave Him
He beats me into silence
I play the piano when He’s out at the bars
He hates my music / I have no money
I haven’t written in months
I miss hearing birdsinging outside my bedroom
at 4am in summer darkness / Open-windowed
five years ago in the old port / Watermuzak
Before I entered my husband’s manse,
forests on every street / Maples / Dogwoods
Rivers of pollen in the gutters / Pure white
In this silence, I dream I slay the dragon
But nobody wants poems of weary nights
They want Baccarat genius, Hermès velvet
God shrive me / I haven’t written in months
Pentimento of sin waketh me compline to lauds
Hard to wake from my grief to pen iridescence
when I’m faced with losing my Social Security
and Civil Security / and Whatnot / I grow scutes
I’ve stopped waiting to be granted Mercy
by anyone who meets me / God shrive my mayfly-
self / I have that kind of personality I guess
Save the jet’s passengers / rob their purses
My mistake for thinking God would grant Mercy
like a hydrant spraying in August city swelter
Below these wings / I went to a model train fair
My mother drove me / How nice of her
She thinks her horned, decrepit politicians would save us
from their kindred / if only they held a Supermajority
I can’t convince her otherwise / I fear her
Look at all the little trains run and run
around in their same old tracks without an exit
just like our lives
Sean Eaton is a gay, autistic poet from New England, USA. Past publication credits include Hawaii Pacific Review, The Queens Review, and About Place Journal.
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