she warned me
I’d get bellyache
from tart green apples
that cracked open to my teeth
and made me so mouth happy
I dripped juice…
and, later then
her smirk and narrow eyes
pure Schadenfreude
at me doubled over
groaning on a couch
in the living room
how could she…not,
and I fault her…not,
for I, too, think harm joy–
know the gentle sense of it…
There! I landed on her space
and sent her back to Go!
Aha…I won. She lost!
or pious contemplation of…
There but for the grace of God go I.
or…She had it coming–stupid ass.
or the killer one…I’d never say,
She’s such a sweet thing.
heartless thought…not
far away from me, a lot like
Don’t think bluebirds.
I’ll not disown it…never could,
this bite of human nature
that still aches inside of me
Bonnie Marshall
Artwork by Rene Magritte
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