Sorryoholics Anonymous

My name is daughter, wife, woman
and I am eroding into one reliance: sorry.

I committed another sin
of the sticky additive: sorry.

It resurrects
by accident: sorry.

Something low to the ground
and rushed: sorry.

I block the shelf of canned tomatoes sorry
I drop something without breaking it sorry
I wilt away someone’s quarter-hour sorry

Dark and easy,
like everything wanting to be quit.

Trying
oops, hey there, my mistake
the ratio is off.

I’ll go days without realizing
sorry sorry sorry
another resolution restarted.

For what? For what? For what?
Please don’t taunt me.

Wasn’t it you who gave me too little space
and scolded me for dripping down the walls.

Didn’t you lust and lust and lust after what I am
then demand for purity and ladyship.

I remember, it was

you who sympathized with the poor, lonely man
excusing his violence, his unwelcomed ding
One (1) Unread Message

Aren’t you sorry sorry sorry

For what? For what? For what?

There is penance growing in you
just as I am emptying of all my atonement.

First Published in The Avenue, Issue VII: Freedom, 2021

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