When the Truth Lied

When the truth lied, the pain
that came brought me alive.
I’d wanted to hurt, to endure;
had endured waiting only
and was ready for more.

In one sense, all I ever learned
is that it sucks to be poor.
There’s a point beyond which
hunger and loneliness
are not romantic or pure,

just true.  More important:  to
hurt another is to choose a new
path, out of the garden
where God talks to you.

We become skeletons,
mouths still moving.
Our voices, what of them?
What even of our loving?

My mother watched the mirror
with bruised eyes she’d paid for.
To know the secret, the truth
broke in the door.
There was more but also no more.

There was a code, I just knew
there was a code.  How I’d waited,
letting it burn in me.
Looking back, such a tiny eternity.


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