german cross road, 4th of july

these empty spaces you
know by heart

this burning house and
this beaten dog and
the fact that sorrow is just a
waste of time

no one asks you if you
like to bleed

no one asks if
the rope is too tight

but what about this?

do you know the names of any
of the men who were beheaded?

would you kiss the feet of
the god who allowed it to happen?

and of course
the question isn't fair
and of course your answer
is offered like a slamming door

and i'm not going to ask if
you ever loved me
or if your father's death was
any more or less important
than mine's

i'm not going to
ask to touch your cancer

what it's taken me
the last fifteen years to
figure out is that we're all lost

who are these girls being
fucked like dogs for the internet?

did they ever have names?

did they ever have parents?

yes
but knowing them
would only make you guilty

would only put a gun in
your hand and your children
dead in the back of the van
next to a shovel and a
roll of duct tape

and maybe in the afternoon
it rains

maybe the baby sleeps

and you call up your lover
and tell him it's over
and he laughs

calls you a bitch and
tells you to get on your knees
and you do

the rest of your life
exactly as painful as you
knew it would be