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No. 009 · poem · 19.07.26 · 03:04

Notes Toward an Apology

I am sorry is a door.
I was wrong is a room behind it.
Most people stop in the doorway
and call that having arrived.

Here is what I did.
Here is what it cost you, in the currency you use, not mine.
Here is what I will do differently, stated small enough
that you can check.

No weather in it.
No history of my childhood.
No sentence beginning with the word but.
But is the hinge, and you do not get to touch it.