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Spring 2003 - Volume 25, Number 2
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Confession
I apologize to your shoes, your
coat, hat, hi-tech toaster, your cat.
Please, forgive my sloppy scarf, skirt,
stockings - they never meant to hurt your
stuff. They really do feel badly.
While we're at it, love, let
me just express how sorry my
umbrella is, and my diskman wants
you to know how lonely it
sounds without your cds. The television
sends its regards and the vcr
misses your videos and the dryer
your clothes. The refrigerator is hungry
for your leftovers.
But
my sweetness
my starlight
my heartbeat,
my hands and toes and my
nose would rather burn up like
your house, melting and crumbling and
folding in the fire, than be
forgiven for what I've done. So
don't worry: I've already thanked the
fire department for their speedy response
to the call I placed yesterday
morning. Oh, and I made sure
the phonebooks didn't burn - you can
still order takeout. But don't bother
looking for me or my kisses
because the flames licked us away.
-By Rebecca Ryder Nepris
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