Giving Up

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GIVING UP


Snaked over the toilet, retching, 

this wretched creature resembling 

me—resembling the “S” 

in someone help me—requests

something he might digest, 

something simple enough 

but solid, and able to fill 

the famished, tender space.

Please, no garnish. On top of this, 

a firm hand on his shoulder 

would be nice, reminder that another

has stared into this abyss

and knows. And then forgiveness

for the mess he’s made

about the place. It need

be sharp and final

as lemon Lysol.


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