A Prayer of Sorts

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A Prayer of Sorts

 

This poem won't redress it right,

will not be adequate to pacify

the putrid cyst about to rupture

in my chest, and I am also sure

our efforts of self-medication

haven’t yet resolved the problem

that my uncle Dennis still forgets

my name and then my aunt’s

 

until reminded, and protests still

are rendered necessary for the wel- 

fare of my friends, and as of now

I haven’t slept uninterrupted for

what's near a month, and so I think

I’ll go outside and feebly blink

up at the dark until I get so sick

I’m yelling something inarticulate.

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