Selection from “The Arrangement” by Jillian Weise
Why are you writing what you are
when you know I do not like it?
--
Why are you what you are,
when you know I do not like it?
You like to find abandoned schools,
rip toilets from walls, expose pipes
like questions, shatter porcelain.
I prefer to drive to corner country,
find a half-bloomed tree, swerve to
roadside and snap pictures, my face
grooved to ground for better angles.
When you threw desks to ceiling, a
tile fell to sear your back. I disinfect,
say, you deserved worse. You cringe,
but whisper, you remind me of home.
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