This Is Just To Ask Because So Much Depends on Depends
By Wills Stevens Williamwallace [pen name]
Are you trying to kill me or
Am I inferring too much from my hospital bed?
Concussion. Three broken ribs. Spleen, ruptured.
So much depended on my not being sober when
I got up at night to go to the bathroom.
At the top of the stairs
You had placed
A red wheelbarrow.
I ate the plums, warm, unwashed,
From the fruit basket you sent me. The juice
Ruined my new silk pajamas. The pathologist
It has been evening all afternoon. I am going blind.
Is it the Viagra you forced on me?
All morning thirteen blackbirds
Chirping outside the window.
You brought the pistol I requested
But refused to open the window.
Among the shards of glass, gangrene has set in,
Among the clumps of bird tissue embedded in my flesh:
Avian flu. Still, I love you.
Sent as a joke to poetry.com