Like white space on a canvas

As it was in the beginning,
At least the start I understand,
A Something made the earth, the sun,
The water, plants to soak it up,
Animals to eat the plants, a man
To keep and kill the creatures, air
For him to breathe. The maker,
Lacking a flair for design, gave the man
Flesh between his legs, just hanging there
Like an inchworm stringing on a branch.
A clone was thrown into the world
To give it use, lacking man’s surplus.
Exterior negation. Subtly beautiful
Like white space on a canvas. We were defined.

Like white space on canvas, we were defined
By what we weren’t: shaded in.
The things around us give us shape;
We worry that an awkward angle
Will draw us wrong, mangle our bodies
Until we’ve lost that human look
In our eyes, and our arms are reaching
Out our ribs. If we only took
The time to straighten and suit our skin
To our shoulders, like an ill-fitting shirt,
You’d be sitting right here where I slap
My palm. This bench has all the power.
My hand, it falls, it’s weak and base.
If you were here, we’d define our space.

If you were here, we’d define our space
With our hands. Condense to water
If we like, mix and separate
Our liquid flesh, splash the grass
With green delight. Or maybe have
A firefight, scorch the innocent dirt
And char the victim-birds who fly too low
To the ground. A dragonfly does not have
A dragon’s breath, but we have proven
Our lungs’ air can flame, explode
Like a sunflare. So maybe we should
Stay apart. I see that you don’t care right now
But Dear, this silence is an episode.
Already there’s so much to fear.

Already there’s so much to fear:
These cigarettes will pop my lungs,
Leave them flat like empty punching bags;
My eyes will break, lead me groping
In light that only my hands can hold;
My dick will shrivel, balls grow cold,
My seed cloud out, dusty and dry
Like a burst sack of flour; Atomic bombs
Will drop like pelleted geese, while we hide
In bunkers underground, the place we thought
We’d never be, or worse, while sitting
On this bench—I’d have to see the lake dissolve,
The fish choke as my body goes rotten;
My life will go unnoticed, forgotten.

My life will go unnoticed, forgotten.
I had to write it twice. It carries weight.
It sits on my shoulders and shushes me
When I speak. It grabs my pen, cracks it
In half when I try to write for help.
Angers me when it squeezes round my waist
To push my blood into my face.
Another fear: I’ll never understand
A woman like I seem to know myself.
Of me, I know enough to just get by,
So with other men I can sympathize,
But women are a different kind.
The birthing of a child seems a pain, but
Menstruation’s something I would like to try.

Menstruation’s something I would never try,
I have to say. I have to be honest.
I force myself to neglect: This is my body.
A liver, a heart, a brain, never mind
The blood that fills my veins, all soupy
And sludgy, like quicksand, like stew.
And clots! One of those breaks free, man,
It’s hitching a ride straight to your ribcage,
Right inside where you put your hand
For the Pledge, the place where it bumps for what
Feels like forever, but of course it can’t.
A clot can stop your heart like a brick wall,
Or your mother’s look while your hand’s in the cookies.
I wish I’d eaten better.


I wish I’d eaten better.
That’s everyone’s lament, as well as
I wish I’d done a few more sit-ups, or
I should have brought more girls to bed.
That last one’s fine-tuned for the men,
But girls, I’m sure, have a similar thought.
For me right now, I’m friends with sex; no waste
From the extra flesh given me in haste
(He must have rushed it. It’s a clear mistake.)
But someday soon, it can happen in a blink,
This silly tool will lose its use. God bless
That day, when thoughts will have more room to move,
When girls are human beings too, and things are
As they were in the beginning.