JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

There’s comfort in cottage cheese,

the seven o clock news,

in washing soiled clothes

 

Every now and then, pipes burst

blood spills out, soaks

floor, furniture, seeps into cracks,

places where lumps of dirtiness are lodged

 

We can’t help it.  Yes, we’re adults,

experienced in therapy and self-help books,

we’ve passed all the exams in patience,

tolerance, understanding, compassion

 

And still it’s back again

blood freezes, pipes burst,

we break off icicles, wound each other

like spears, stilettos, scalpels,

watch, half fascinated, horrified

 

How our parents are beating us again

berating us, belittling, mocking, superior,

insulting.  We know it’s our parents

because we’ve read the best books,

been to family therapists

 

Still despite all, the pipes burst again

we watch our carpets soak and sag,

lumps of dirt floating around, we can’t

help it, suddenly pipes burst

from carrying their load

 

Dismayed, we mop the mess as best

we can, as blood subsides,

take comfort in small things like

talking about cottage cheese, the news

 

Collect and wash our soiled clothes