She Knows Everything About Everything

She arranges odd angles in the same space
Over & over again
Muttering something about
It’s never enough
Or maybe
She’s never enough

Like a tornado
Touching down & picking up
She runs from room to room
Ensures every rule is followed,
That every role is hers.

I can tell
By the way she shakes her head & points her finger,
She knows she knows best
She has to;
Being right is her only light

But her light
Is not the sacred Promethean fire,
It’s fluorescent,
Artificial,
Made of short-infested wire.

Her light
Makes visible the dark;
Reveals only dust & shadow.

Her light
Keeps her on the shallow end
Shaking her head
At those who tread deep waters.
She scolds them
As child playing at mother.

She’s never been a mother,
But she knows all about that too.
Knows everything about everything.
Knows more than me or you.

She knows everything
About being awkward & lonely
Driving us away
Knowing that she doesn’t know
Why with her
No one will play

She knows
It’s lonely
When you know everything
About everything.

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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