"Confession" by S Linkov

Everyone's broken something.
Me, a rat's skull.
I'd found it, you know, just walking.
Thought I might keep it. With hollow teeth and those
enameled hoops where its eyes should be
and behind, space with no brain to speak of
it never made a sound. Maybe we'd be
friends.

I'm most myself when I'm breaking things.
I buck toy horses till their legs snap right off,
flush pills downt he drain. When I was five I
stood on a tadpole to see what would happen.
I'm a job-satisfied torturer. I'm a bawling
crass god. When I broke my leg, I laughed.

I hid the skull in my pack. As I took it out
white powder spilled out of its nose like
blood. Its teeth were jagged, the hoops
not quite hoop-like, one jaw I couldn't find.
My foot was Levite-angry. Splinters flew to
the coasts of Isreal. Then I got my breath back.

It's stupid. I tell myself to grow up. I started
a pottery class once. Fingering air bubbles
I made the children cry. I sketched a nude,
gave her a rack to lie on. Tore a book in two
to show just how strong I was. But that rat...
You really don't give half a damn, do you?