What Cannot Be Undone

A poem

It’s already done, you say.

And my viscera is water

That rushes forth to pour

From carefully hidden holes.

You don’t want to see

The flood come forth

From lips, eyes, nose, skin,

To remember I’m water.

It’s already done, you say.

The oily fire consumes,

Your body its paper,

And boils my water.

A part of you and me,

Happy, won’t bear the burden

You placed on my shoulders.

I’ll wear it as a cloak.

It’s already done, you say,

So I stop the water,

Turn off the tap,

Put on a smile, autopilot.

I’ll rage behind eyes

And you’ll never sense

The silent heaves of mourning

In the darkness.

I should be loving you, but

My insides are water

Leaking, as from a burst balloon.

It’s already done.