My Heart is Beef Jerky
A poem
My Heart is Beef Jerky
Do you ever meet someone too nice?
So soft of voice, sweet in perpetual
offers to help, rounded, no edges,
no corners, skin and hair
fair as the beige of every office wall;
poems written about them have
no crackle or cracks or darkness at all.
I take my pocket knife, try to carve out
my hard edges and whittle a smile
where the resting bitch face lies,
to no avail. I remain cracked and
irregular, edged with pained experiences.
My softness is covered with a hard-earned
protection, a lesson to not expect
too much from the world — or it will
certainly disappoint.
I shovel soil over every memory,
anticipating the growth of hope,
but no rain falls; a desert lives
in the tear ducts of my eyes.
Do you look back and remember
somebody who went away
and realized you should have
been the reason they stayed?
You just couldn’t reach out,
couldn’t say…
