dispersing & reflecting light through poetry

​To the person reading this poem

It’s not you.
But I don’t trust you.

It’s not you.
It’s the cloud of witnesses 
that have gone before you:
the ’70s child of divorce;
the virgin teen prize
of a girlfriend wager/race 
for the trophied ring finger 
and the conceived ramifications;
the infatuated young man
whose string of love interests’
ears were not atuned
to his babble and verse;
the newlywed groom
and a vacuous first marriage
honeymoon bedtime prophecy
“Let’s get this over with”
fulfilled four months later;
the brothers in holy arms 
with unsheathed daggers dripping
fresh blood on local network tv;
the pastor, confidante, & friend
airing confessionals in front of God
and everyone as nasty parables;
the husband & father who failed
to clearly express his thoughts and intents;
the beggar deaf mute
repeat prodigal supplicant
somebody wannabe…

It’s not you,

as I stand here naked
in the shower writing this poem–
scented soap in my right hand,
washcloth in my left;
I’m just not sure I want you to read this.

Copyright © 2016 Scott Daniel Massey

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