A Study of Forgiveness as a Piñata
It is definitely an animal, but nobody can tell
which kind. Half donkey, half rodeo clown.
Part cow, part hummingbird. People
only care what’s inside, and how eventually
it will be violent(ly) drawn out — the wild
staggers of the blindfolded, how the body
acts as a volume knob: the closer the swing,
the louder the shrieks. That satisfying thud,
aluminum against papier-mâché, dull
and electric. In these years after you, I too
have thrashed in the dark, have swung madly
at sounds, have prayed for impact, or at least
purpose. I confess I have noosed your memory,
waved my bat like a shameful finger, waited
beneath it, ready to collect my lump of closure.
Thump. I forgive you. Thump. I forgive you.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Nothing ever falls out.