To whom it may concern
though it may not, in fact, concern you in the slightest-
Dear God, if you will.
I’m writing from a seated position,
leaning back as though to remember
what it felt like to lean back into his arms,
until that one day when I leaned and
he didn’t catch me.
Dear God, hope I’m not inconveniencing you,
hope this is a good time to write,
if you would be so kind as to make me an
apathetic, not a pathetic, person
I’d be much obliged.
Surrounded by intelligence
(relative, of course, to experience) of relatives, I am feeling
oddly superior in my inferiority.
To whom it may concern,
since you are so greatly concerned,
no one is working for you, dear,
the trick is to make it seem like
they’re the ones leading.
Image is not mine.