In A Box

 

Tell me again, how I’ve got it wrong.
The liturgy plays endlessly in my head
but I’m sure you have your finger on it.


Tell me how my patience is transparent
with wear, and how I forget the milk.
I’m sure I meant to ride to work today…


Tell me the world is hard, and to grow
a thicker skin, for when they put the knives in.
I need epiphany in a box, so wrap it up to go.