i've been killing people
ever since i was born.
they say it was child birth that killed her,
but i know my mother died because she
was scared to bring me into the world,
something that vomited blood and
made her crave goose feathers.
when i was three, my father died and
i killed him because i didn't do anything.
he choked on a lamb bone and i tried to
feed him my mushed potatoes and carrots
to see if it would go down.
when i was 11, my aunt died and i think it
was my fault only because i am cancer
and i must've given it to her that way.
my grandmother was 79 when i killed her
and it says 'heart failure' on her death
certificate but i know that she died because
depression is contagious and who wants to live
when everyone else is dead?
i was 15 when i killed my boyfriend. i think
he was 19 and he had a nice smile and told
me my legs reminded him of the colts he had
birthed on his granddaddy's farm in tennessee.
he tried to love me and i told him that i hated
him and never wanted to see him again.
when i was 19, i think i killed my goldfish
because i stopped feeding him and let the
water in his tank turn a musky, moldy green
liked the jello i fed my grandmother when she
was 79.
when i was 22, i killed myself because i dropped
out of school and shed out of my name like a snake
and painted my hair rust and dyed my eyes windex blue
and drove my car out to atlanta and i think
someone else lives there now.
