Timmy Sutton

Admission

after June Jordan’s “Resolution #1003”

I have made myself a fool
for love gladly, knowing
I’ve made myself
a fool for much
less—joy
is too precious
to let scream by for fear
of a little laughter—I trust
too much—I buy my shoes
too small hoping
they’ll stretch out—I sweat
when I eat, carry Cholula
in my tote and work desk
just to make a mess of myself
in any meal I happen upon—I know
what I’m getting into even
when it will hurt—love appears
a pit mid-highway and I stop the car
a spiral staircase into an empty
too big to name and I think
June Jordan would tell me
to take the long way around
or at least count the steps
or at least take the stairs
but with this hollow bed
with this atrocious heart
I can’t help the whole
slapstick routine, tumbling
headfirst in circles, glorious
laugh track drowning
each thud, each shoe squeak and blister,
each dribble of snot, barely avoiding
my meal—at least
I’m in on the joke—this time
at least I’m also laughing