CHOKE

You should have been my master

and I should have been your slave:

Then, oh, what sweet disaster

whenever I misbehaved.

You should have done the talking

and I had my mouth shut.

You should have tied my tongue

and eyes

and bound my hands and feet.

You should have kicked me to the curb

and whipped me in the street.

You should have been born twice

and I should have been born dead:

Your second life a paradise

because the one I never led.           

You should have seen me the Liar,

 that Traitor who kissed you for hire, Then

 you’d have you have been

the Negotiator and

 I would have swung from a wire.

You should be the architect

that built the city on a hill.

And I will never be let in that city

and am out here, wandering, still,

I won’t be the mud

you scrape from your boot

or the skin

you trim from your foot.

I won’t be the floor

you walk across;

I won’t be a thought

you forgot you lost

along the way.

I won’t be a thought you forgot

you lost.

I won’t be a thought you forgot you lost

along the way.   

Bend now, your mind to slaughter.

Find in you a butcher’s daughter.

Sound my guts, spilled like water:

I’d choke on my blood like laughter.