by Bobi Leutschaft Poitras

Not very cheerful…but I drew a picture  🙂

Crucifying Myself

What is a door 
But a thing to walk through
Or close on the world
As I so often do

I keep a pen
And a bottle of gin
Under my pillow
Just in case it busts in

I’ve written down
In my journal of rust
All the humans I know
And the dogs that I trust

I have kept track
Of each stitch that I got
And keep every scar
In a little green pot

Here by my side
Lie my most cherished thoughts
So cuddly and warm
And all tangled in knots

My well-laid plans
Come to me in the night
To sleep at my feet
As I turn out the light

All hope is pinned
On a board in the hall
It’s not very much
So it’s written real small

In the event
that it all somehow fails
I still have my crutch
And this bucket of nails


©Bobi Leutschaft Poitras, February 2022

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