poem #5 for the New Yorker magazine

I was a child.
You alone supported me
when I was beaten repeatedly.
My tears were my only misery.

Now I am strong.
I stand on my own two feet.
You looked at me and clicked delete.
Abandonment is a form of defeat.

You have no problem leaving me alone.
Your absence I will never condone.
I was honest to the bone.
But now my loyalty for you is overthrown.

--Third Leg