You must know:

The higher you raise your hands in joy,

The harder I flinch;

The further I expect the blow,

The hit or the scratch.

For I know I am something to be bit,

To be marked somehow,

Like a dog with its collar.

(Not chosen but given).

Or rather,

The clipped wings of an owl,

Born in captivity;

Never known flight,

Known only the fight

to retain what's left of itself in a cage.

I’ve never known someone kind enough

to not hurt me eventually;

Never known the shine

of the moon against my wings in flight;

Never known air I can breathe

without choking on the bones

of love I have not let grow

past a rodent or vole.

Love was never the noble beast

that others claim it to be,

rather always the rat that steals from me.

And I am a tame animal!

Mostly.

I will not hurt you in any way that will stick.

My teeth long rotted out of my jaws,

‘from misuse’ they say,

yet I don’t think they ever grew in.

My mother has always said:

‘It is your lack of conviction that causes the most damage.’

And I believe her.

For I have believed in her,

like a priest in her temple,

since my arcadian birth.

Did you know I did not cry when I was born?

It is as if i was created

to speak only for her.

Yes I am my mothers mouthpiece,

I translate for you what you will not know,

(Can not know),

The language she speaks that I regard in fluency.

Her altar of apathy has cradled me

since I was but an idea in her cranium.

I have spent decades studying her scriptures,

calling on her for guidance,

begging for absolution,

but like God

she has nothing

that i could not have learned from a different book.

But forgive me!

I get ahead of myself so easily.

I often fall behind my own body,

Leaving a mess in my wake.

A papertrail of belongings

scattered in your home like musings,

a half-formed idea of living.

You will not like me by the end of this.

But I will love you more,

for though i cannot fix what hurts you

you cannot stop me from trying.

Like a Father I open myself to your confessional;

Like an owl Mother I empty myself to fill you up;

And when I find myself waiting

in the grey of morning

for you to wake,

and describe to me your day,

I will step around the fact that you will not ask me

where I will be.

Because you know my cage’s location,

and the shade of my collar.

And you know my future.

That I have little else ahead of me,

(No graduation gown awaits me),

And when you forget me,

Like the rabbit forgets the dandelion,

Or the dog forgets the tick in its pelt,

I will be reminded of when:

A dissertation and a psychologists note

sat hand in hand

for the first and last time,

on the table that we ate a dinner,

I could never relax enough to taste.