A note from Grendel’s Mother

i am ready for you to kick me out
im itching to hit the road
ill take my buddhist prayer beads
and my rawhide bones
ill take my stuffed animal carcasses
my dog who shits on the carpet
ill take all the men who visited
except one of them

because i just cant. i cant.
i cant do this

ill drink up all your liquor
ill wake up howling
my buddhist prayer beads
are made of animal skeletons
i think
though i was told
the bones are genuine human

i just cant do this.

i want my cave littered
i’ll keep the dead
we have a healthy relationship
i cant be trusted with the living
my own son and i
dont even speak the same language

i don’t much like talking.
and i cant.

i cant do this.
i cant do this. i cant do this again.

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