June 20: Dirty Secrets, Skunk, New Poem

First, I would like to thank Mr. Lonely, the person who left a comment for me yesterday, wishing me a happy Father's Day.  I really appreciate hearing from people who read my blog.

Today has been fairly productive for me.  I got a whole crapload of work done early this morning in just a couple hours.  Then I started thinking about a poem for today's post.  I struggled with finding a topic for a while, and then I remembered the skunk from last week.

This isn't Flower!

When I left for work last Monday, I stepped onto my front porch and could immediately smell skunk.  This might not sound like an astonishing fact in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Let me explain.  I, generally, don't smell skunks.  The ability to smell skunk is, I think, hereditary.  My brother didn't inherit the ability to smell skunk, and neither did I.  The only time I can smell skunk is when its scent is so strong it can knock the "normal" skunk smeller unconscious.  I've actually stopped by a dead skunk on the side of the road, stood over it, and sniffed deeply.  I didn't smell a thing.  So, if I smelled skunk on my front porch last week, that skunk was close by.

When I opened my front door, I saw the reason why the skunk was hanging around my house.  My garbage can was knocked over, and the garbage bag was torn open.  There was rubbish, trash, nasty shit all over my lawn.  I spent 15 minutes cleaning it up.  I was annoyed and a little embarrassed seeing all my crap spread out before me.

That is the inspiration for this new poem.  The poem ended up being about all of the dirty little secrets we harbor in the trashcans of our hearts.  We all have secrets.  And most secrets, eventually, become public knowledge in very public ways.  (Just ask Bill Clinton or Anthony Weiner.)

Today, Saint Marty airs some of his dirty secrets.  Metaphorically speaking.

Skunk Morning

Trash can overturned,

The skunk clawed open

Garbage bags, eviscerated

Their contents across my lawn.

My son’s diapers, swollen

With urine, shit, the night’s rain,

Glowed like marble in the early morning

Moonlight.  Banana peels floated

In mud, crawled down the sidewalk,

Nested in grass.  Gnawed, black, raw.

An empty bag of Cheetos at the curb.

Dental floss.  Used sanitary napkins.

A condom from two nights before,

Kids asleep, wife fresh from a shower,

Skin, pink and sweet.  All my secrets

Littered the dark, spread out

For the skunk to nose, chew,

Fill its stomach with, satisfy

Its dark hunger.  I gathered

The dirty details of my life,

Scooped them into a bag,

Knotted the bag, sealed them away.

Under the stars, I smelled

The black-and-white intruder,

Creature of soiled intimacy.

It smelled of musk and fear,

Of all those things I wanted

To keep hidden.

Can't hide forever