I Will Begin Tagging “Sad Robot Inc." on Numerous Surfaces Because I am Sorry I am not Always Good at Certain Emotional Intimacies Shared Between Friends

The ficus drapes its one long vine around
the antique bottle placed beside it
on the windowsill. If today

I were not bitter,
I would find this sweet. Which is to say
that this evening I am not lying

about an impossible affection
between glass and plant. Last night Andy
told me he used to dream in high school

that he was a vampire
and would huddle at the attic window
to burn before he hurt anyone he loved. In return

I have no revelation, only analysis
of how the dream's an obvious stand-in
for whatever he might have feared

was dark within.
Of course it's better
that our secret selves are known. And yet

I would be flat
and shadow-thin and slip
out through the space

under each question's
quickly locking door. Scrutiny,
you terrify me. I am so entirely tired

of this world today
and how I disappoint it. I want all
my wishes granted or, absent that,

to be somewhere cold and dark
like the low reaches of the ocean.
To be entirely contained

by layered scales
until I look like I am my own short silver road
undulating past. Again it seems

I have asked for a shiny surface
to keep me safe beneath. I'm sorry. Listen,
if I knew how

to better skin myself

I would.

Copyright © 2009 Kate Angus All rights reserved
from Subtropics
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission