Reasons for Living/Dying

by Devon S Roberts

I should write about brains with enough chemicals 
to keep the fridge filled, the begonias alive, 
that exercise appropriate fear of open spaces.

I want to want to write about nuclear families 
in a big pink house: Juno and their pink son, Finn. 
Juno makes sandwiches with beets and passion fruit tea. 
Juno’s pink wife was expecting another baby until 
she woke up, and her sheets were stained blue. 

Maybe I’ll write about life before 
pouring aluminum in my ears 
and cutting up all my clothes
(except for the golden leotard). 

I should, but life works hard 
to empty itself of all the right things.
Once, it really scared the hell out of me
when he offered me a kiss on the cheek
which turned my face all swirly. 

When my head comes back, things are gonna be different. 
Before I’m crushed by the metal filling up holes in my bones.