Compulsively Allergic to the Truth
I'm sorry I was late. I was pulled over by a cop for driving blindfolded with a raspberry-scented candle flickering in my mouth. I'm sorry I was late. I was on my way when I felt a plot thickening in my arm. I have a fear of heights. Luckily the Earth is on the second floor of the universe. I am not the egg man. I am the owl who just witnessed another tree fall over in the forest of your life. I am your father shaking his head at the thought of you. I am his words dissolving in your mind like footprints in a rainstorm. I am a long-legged martini. I am feeding olives to the bull inside you. I am decorating your labyrinth, tacking up snapshots of all the people who've gotten lost in your corridors.
From The Endarkenment by Jeffrey McDaniel. Copyright © 2008 by Jeffrey McDaniel. Used by permission of University of Pittsburg Press. All rights reserved.
Jeffrey McDaniel is the author of Chapel of Inadvertent Joy (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2013) and The Endarkenment (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008), among others.
Date Published: 2008-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/compulsively-allergic-truth