I’m lucky not to drown,
second by second, as I
walk down the street—
what with all the lies
and recriminations
I mouth, then swallow,
like a gluttonous beast
devouring itself wholly.
Perhaps it’s fate not luck
which keeps me afloat? But that
requires some god to blame,
and explain the curses directed
daily over rosary beads, like
mendicants to a self long lost.
(September 5, 2021)
subtext 