We Were Born Sick
And every search
for love is really
just a wish
for medicine.
Every shot
of vodka, poison
antidote for pain.
We cry out
in ecstasy, but
still we cry.
Each new smile
is a fresh mask
but ineffective
for hiding truth:
It’s not the pain
that ruins us--
it’s what we do
to avoid the pain.
And every search
for love is really
just a wish
for medicine.
Every shot
of vodka, poison
antidote for pain.
We cry out
in ecstasy, but
still we cry.
Each new smile
is a fresh mask
but ineffective
for hiding truth:
It’s not the pain
that ruins us--
it’s what we do
to avoid the pain.
Marissa Glover teaches and writes in Florida, where she is co-editor of Orange Blossom Review and a senior editor at The Lascaux Review. Marissa's most recent publications include poems at SWWIM Every Day, The Night Heron Barks, Okay Donkey, and Atrium Poetry--with new work soon in The Cabinet of Heed. Her debut poetry collection, LET GO OF THE HANDS YOU HOLD, is forthcoming from Mercer University Press in 2021. Follow Marissa on Twitter @_MarissaGlover_.