FIRST DATE (not for publication)

FIRST DATE (not for publication)

little dark corners
in each of us:
we spend every last bit of our time--
moments days years
erasing, covering over, back-filling, redressing
constantly shaking our heads,
denying

tiny locked drawers, cubby holes
in every single one of us;
carved out in the soft, early years--
moments eons eternities
of unbearable experiences
irrepressibly potent, unfathomably uncomfortable; proof
positive that something is very wrong
with us.

on the beach of memories' feelings, emotional contours wait
just offshore, beneath the surface, a sudden drop-off
and the quick, deep rush of the undertow, grabbing our ankle
and pulling us under tumbling tumbling

but manageable; swept under rugs,
for a while, at least,
in those first days of growing
to know someone: quieted old relatives
knocked out; unmentionable family skeletons,
silently hanging; unattractive younger cousins
prone to unacceptable behavior
locked away downstairs


dark corners, that no one must ever see,
that no one could possibly accept; each,
reason enough for anyone to turn
and walk away

disgusted.