poem

 Annual Exam

I see a doctor who wears a black

Robe instead of a white coat 

Like a 19th century circuit judge 

Arriving by horseback after midnight

Just to hear my case 

I’m swept into his chambers 

And asked a series of questions

I’ve always been afraid to answer.

I do my best to explain myself,

Appealing to his sense of fairness

But time is not just.

By the end of the interrogation my head 

Is in the heels of my hands 

As he quietly finishes up his notes.

We’ve come to the part where

He renders an appropriate sentence,

For my guilt was never in question.

Think of this as penance, he says. 

Then he says: 

Take two of these, with water, every morning

5 Hail Marys

41 lashings

8 inches of clay

10 acres of rye 

Root of amnesia

3 ampules of perseveration

A pinch of wry sanguinity

3 laps around the perimeter of your make believe cage

A vial of broken ego

A 16 gauge needle sunk into the depths of your ass 

Another day, come to pass

A list of things you never got to do

In a plane, under a truck, by boat

An amphora of sweat

Half a carafe of making yourself laugh 

12 minutes to memorize this list

6 seconds to kiss

A suppository of dissolvable doubt

One last thought

Quickly, now

Time is running out

2/22/26