Citatepedia^®.com

Throw a Punch at Me, If You Must

These hours seem to dilate into geologic ages
As I sit among some relatives, who struggle
To determine which of them has suffered most.
A north wind claws the land outside. I cannot
Find the courage to excuse myself and take a
Walk. My carpet's not so dirty as it often is,
Which means that, when I hang my head,
As I do often, there is naught for me to see.
You can do your dishes later. Hasten over.
Rescue me. Come in and say I stole some
Money. Tell them that I killed your dog.
Create the sort of cataclysm that would
Bring a brighter age. I'm begging, darling.
Please.

poem by Lawrence Beck
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!