Elizabeth A. Rosenberg
It’s nothing personal, you understand.
It’s just that there’s nothing personal
you understand. That is that
you understand what isn’t personal
which is not. This is not to say all
you misunderstand. However much
missing is something you do do, though
not about understanding in most cases.
You understand factualities unrelated to sensation
without you as their subject. But as factualities are
without expectation missing or failing to understand
them is crucial
in ways which are unrelated to the seriousness of the questions
raised by misunderstanding or failing to understand sensation
oriented phenomena outside of yourself as the subject.
But then, as I said, and endeavor to remind you, this is nothing personal. This is not about you.
Though I will take this opportunity
to point out that factualities are sometimes referred
to by people in the know as fabrications. Just a word to the wise of warning; but then
things on faith has never been one
of your bon amies, eh, sweetie?
So she can be tortuous. All this indirectness is just too wearing.
Say something pretty, please.
If I had velvet paws, no problem. Must be all Kevin Killian’s fault.
His and his damn play about Ashbery and Oppen
hoppin’ down the bunny trail.
I mean Resurrection’s a do over.
Click on Red High Heels of Death.
So what’s missing now they’re gone.
The gaggle of players, the husband, the daughter?
Indecent distraction? Rabid debate?
Left to the tea table and three very furry cats
who eat enormous amounts of fresh roasted turkey
all the while keeping an eye out
for who really counts, she thinks