Weak, Weak, Week
It's not because I'm weak
Or maybe yes it is—forgive me, love
I do what I must when fate throws her fork in
She smiles and dares and whispers
And thinks I might be selfish but I stand where I stand
It's not because I'm weak but because I see what comes next
You fall, I fall
And then you hit
And, darling, what am I left with?
Just some scattered bones and repeats of who I am
Repeats of what I have already seen but
Tried to bury in the dirt
Where it belongs
Undo my collar and loosen this up and you'll see
Red
Dried away and now only color but still there
Like beacons, like foghorns, like shouting
Shouting, screaming tiny things yelling from their beds
Dreaming up things like me
Running to mothers and crying into aprons
They too remember
Memories remind me there was a man
But death has come to visit him
She wasn't donned in black but ivory—she mirrored
The child's eyes she came upon
And death became not the night but the moon
Take my weakness if you will—if that makes it easier
Hate will then become
Your freedom
And that is still
Sufficient
Ramsay, Ramsay—him and I were meant for things in lighter settings
We hoist and pull
And smile and play the black jack when you ask it
Take my weakness
The one thing I present with glee
Body bent and eyes uncolored
Tis all I have for thee
