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THIEVED from the cradle,
stolen from the crib:
cursory nursery

your life,
so tragic,

a child stripped of innocence[/ignorance, it’s all the same]
and, therefore, never one

if i told your story [word for word]
to the widow who lives across the street,
sipping tea and eating marzipan,
after a hot summer’s day work in the garden;
she’d cry
a deluge of tears
salinating her confectionery
maybe i’ll tell her one day when i’m bored

your story,
so tragic,

if it ever fell upon the ears
of the fisherman at the dock
he’d scoff and scowl,
clench his jaw, grit his teeth
say who cares
it’s yer own gawddamn fault
but i’d know by his eyes, through a certain softening
and later, out of the sympathy would come sacrifice
he’d donate a few grimy, hard-earned dollars
maybe i’ll tell him one day when i’m feeling charitable

your story,
so tragic,

a thousand stories like yours
would make up a skyscraper of sorrow
but i wouldn’t shed a tear

your life,
so tragic,