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,
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.


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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