CALL ME BELOVED

it’s the smaller failings that bundle together
and become unwieldy – forgotten items on a list,
phone calls yet to be made – these weigh heavily,
crease the skin around my eyes and tire me
because I cannot shake them loose.

they cling to me like burrs from my grandparents tree
used to bury themselves into my Easter sweater.
we would roll through the front yard
and return for photographs covered by them,
obstinate hooks and stubborn burrs
tucked in all the folds and hard to see places,
subtle and painful tugs you’d find weeks later –
nestled into the small of your back.