Reparations For the Holidays

For a summer I worked for an online magazine
compiling tables of little known holidays
and appropriating them as themes. School Nurses Day
and then the same month for Glaucoma and Family Fitness.

When I can’t sleep, I sometimes watch a reality program
about the sex lives of esoteric people in this country.
There is one woman who wants to weigh 1000 lbs.
Her husband is aroused by making four dozen eggs
and feeding them to her. With joy and tension, he describes
lifting her stomach before intercourse. He is excited
by “the prospect of immobility.” I wonder when she will die.

Sometimes it makes me feel better or worse
to watch this, or makes my problems feel small
and regular. My sleeping pills are not very effective.
So what if I am still falling out of love

and even walk softly home repeating phrases
like I am a human or It will be morning
. I’m not speaking in metaphorical terms

when I say there was something bad growing inside me
and if they didn’t find it and cut it out with a wire
I could have died. That was Columbus Day.

Now I sit reading. I pause often
to think of madness and scripture: a world
where men wander the desert lost for years.
And who knows? It could turn out alright.
Like that, suffering and celebration.
A grocery store or a church.

One website says: your essay should be quick and easy:
like a convenience store robbery. Imagine that
and being better for it. It must be that the insurance firm
is so generous. Everyone will be a bit too devoted
making reparations.

1 comment
  1. Stephen said:

    I love this.Very moving touching real and honest.Hits a nerve with me.
    Peace Stevie

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