No Gold Stars

June 3

NO GOLD STARS

I look at my chart, then my chest; there are no gold stars.  I long for the affirmation of my great and seemingly endless struggle.  I watch the movements of those with shiny shoes and hope to be awarded with the gummed insignia.  When I hang by a thread, I desire the corroboration of foil cutouts to assure me I have done the right; I have stayed alive.  Punishment I fear less than lack of consolation.  But, no one truly knows my bravery and if I want these paper emblems, I can just go and buy my own.

Count unhatched chickens but don’t place them on the menu.

*

The Hope Diamond

My guess is

the same god that wants me stupid

also wants me to suffer.

I ask myself what could be all powerful about that?

I wonder is God like a friend or a lover?

I carefully chose my friends

whereas my lover found me

against my greatest plans and well thought rules.

And if this is to be like marriage,

may I file for divorce if things go astray?

Or am I stuck with this match,

like I am stuck with my deformed ear

there underneath hat or fringe of hair?

I never thought of my relationship with God

like a necklace I could take on and off at will,

though the more I study it seems this beautiful thing

enhances my beauty if all is right

and will strangle me if it gets hung up.