Please Don't Text Me Pictures of the Sunrise

Amanda Smeltz

Please don’t text me pictures of the sunrise from the parking lot.
Keep your steel town to yourself. What is your steel town to me?

Bad enough I share your love of suburban purple clematis.
At every triple leaflet I repeat your evil name.

Love is the law that binds us to the wounded and wounding.
I am obligated by love; I am bound, albeit abandoned.

The evangelical contingent, that God-fearing consumer group:
Angels in the Hard Rock Café! That’s not an angel, it’s an ad.

In every furrow and knuckle you confess your childhood trauma.
I have to talk to my enemy; you’ll find me a grave man tomorrow.

A grave man on the morrow but a blithe one for tonight!
You too will betray your family in order to better your life.