This poem was entitled “Team.”

But I’m tired of coaching and cleaning up 

after the wandering sprite who floats down the hall:

live, laugh, love! and forget and fuck it up. 

Two minds, and hands twiceover,

could hold the world by the cardinal points 

and spin it upright on its axis. 

But I am Atlas, shouldering all, while he moons 

at his reflection in the camera app.

---

It were one thing to exploit me–

another to disservice our dependents

by sometimes fancying to share the burden

and bungling it. Sorry and a smile 

don’t help. In fact, you’ve helped enough.

You’ve taught me 

that the good girl and the bitch are synonyms. 

Betty’s caring and determination make

Beatrix’s standards: try.

---

Just try. With sweat and time, 

we can open the sky to heaven.

And would it surprise, that the angels shined on me

(since I’m the hellhound chasing the ingenue up a tree)?

As the sun turns cold on martyrdom,

I’ll shoulder that too, and gladly be the bitch.

No one else will.