Over the short years,
we've fired comments at each other
that were like deadly darts
in the skin of some clever animal,
long-ago immune, only faking tears
slightly evolved animal
until my dying day.
At least, it was so
until he threw an untainted spear into my ribs!
'You're too honest.'
As if deception was his immunity!
As if lies should be at the dart's end!
So offensive was my naivete,
thinking the dishonestly truly a poison.
What years had really happened?
'Don't be so hard on yourself.'
he tells me as if I shook with fear,
like you'd tell weakling to fool it.
He'd drown Socrates,
just so we can live like we're in a giant ant farm!
Now he calls,
at least once a day,
but he doesn't realize
he is not calling not that faintly human creature,
but a woman dead to him
and his unexamined, worthless life...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.