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Fangs

Christopher Hivner

There isn’t much
you can do
when the shit
and the fan
unite
to cover your life
in excrement,
there isn’t anything
to say
when you’re four
and your dad walks out
on the family,
when your marriage
becomes divorce,
when debt
presses its weight
onto your shoulders
until you’re driven
into the ground
like a garden spike.
There’s nothing
for anyone to do
when love turns
to bewilderment,
ending with blame
and responsibility
lying in the garbage,
nothing anyone can do
for you
when your mother dies,
the rudder
of your life
breaking away
and sinking to the bottom
of the murky future.
There isn’t much
you can do
when the days
bite back
and the nights
don’t care
except remember
the music,
and the jokes,
remember the scales
can be balanced,
so bite back,
hard,
with sharpened teeth,
fling the shit
off your clothes,
unplug the fan
and face the day.

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