from Ghosty Boo

          I know I owe I owe

I am innocent
of my crimes but do not realize
I am convicted. I exist as a mouse,
a skank, to turn inside, to
camouflage mixed with attempts
at tenderness, which is an
instinct.  I give up, eventually,
on tenderness.

          I owe I owe I owl

Once, I was a teenager. On the couch,
I lay my head on my father’s thigh
while we watched TV. It was my attempt
at normal physicality for a father-daughter
relationship. It felt weird
as fuck & I was embarrassed.
You don’t walk up to a stranger
& hug them. You don’t touch your parents
sweetly if you never did before, crazy.
Who is the foolbaby?
What does she eat? What does she do
for a living? The foolbaby is beautiful & dimply.
She is a dough pustule!
She is not real.

          I owl I owl I owl

Ghosty Boo started out
as a foolbaby, too. She was innocent.
My therapist keeps reminding me:
I was innocent. My Ghost Boos are innocent.
So should I tend to them
like flowers, animals, or children?
Do I sprinkle water on them, give them
grain bags? Why am I afraid
to touch & be touched? I exist
really inside my skin. My outer
shell is a machine that alerts
my inside form, which has cracked eye
sockets that owl everywhere.

        :             :             :

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