You wade through criticism at high tide,
sorting like a line worker, throwing
spears at the unsuspecting,
the innocent,
the suffering,
relying on the adage
that friends tell the cold hard truth,
un-PC disclaimers:
“Frankly,”
“Honestly,”
“I’m just saying;”
the preface to the sting,
the kick to the body
gone to ground,
punches that never bruise,
digging in the dirt
like a gardener cultivating
flowers of evil,
dispelling the support
we all desire, insensitive
to what we lack;
the love and loss,
the faith and forgiveness,
all easy targets
for one more stone.
Published in Collected Poems, 2016
©2016, Dan Schell, Flex Your Head Books