double punch

in the chest and neck

while I worship

the artist's memoir

(great--but a brat!)

and I mean literally--

I must've slept

on it wrong I swear

I feel the way

I imagine meningitis feeling--

I envy the courage

you were able to summon

to produce anything--

I was Martha to your Mary

I took care of business

while you did The Work--

(brat!)

but I benefit from

the insights--yes we've both

figured some things out--

Still you had more to lose

and that loosened your hand

smote because an identity

wore out like the crotch

of some pants

I see you

tying mites out of the air

binding them in aspiration

but I stayed home and wrote

while every spirit

in earth strutted to your service

belle of the ball

the geek dancing

in South Jersey bars

while I mock you now

reading your tales

and remembering

a different scene

so I put it aside

and turn out the light

turning over carefully

for that aching neck

another day I didn't ask for

draws down on the fading pages

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito