HIT MAN
There’s a knock on the door
I think name, rank, serial number,
what I did with those days in my time trust,
how much love I murdered slamming the phone,
how many ideas I flushed in fear,
what words I had for the person
across the table I smiled upon,
how much shame I swallowed
to keep the peace,
how much I lost when the sun
came to sit with me
on balcony confessionals
and I refused to feel
There’s another knock and I invite in
whomever, whatever it is
I want this gruesome business
to be over, done with
“It’s time,” I say to no one
“Come ahead, I’m ready
Let’s have at it
I didn’t make this world
Somebody else did”
“Bring it on!”