Sorry Is Another Tomorrow.

NO

crocodile tears.

NO

white knuckle flim flam.

NO 

slick hustle wham bam;

     sneaking the uninvited 

     around to the back door. 

NO

taking the crumbs and

begging for more. 

We threw ourselves in the pool, 

  but kept all of our clothes on. 

We never cool off.

There are no towels, 

   warmed in the dryer by our mother’s love. 

There are no voices, 

       choked with contrition, 

               mouthing prayers for our safety. 

There is only silence in this,

               iridescence of hope. 

It keeps us deaf in one ear,

                 drowning with agony

                  wet in the chest 

                  waves of sorrow-

sorry,

sorry

sorry,

     sorry is another tomorrow.