William Carlos Williams ate my plums and I’ve never forgiven him

Plus he
made me
afraid of
the rain

Made me afraid
of the pattering
against
my window

heralding
storms
so sweet
and so cold

Made me
terrified
of thunder
and lightning

whom I
had known
from childhood
when we’d 

play outside
together
in the Southern
summer

It was
the slamming
doors
that did it

the front door
and his
bedroom door
shut

without care 
or even
awareness
of the noise

It was his
tympanic voice
when I was
near-asleep

his phone
on speaker
with someone
just as loud

and I would
pray and count
the seconds
and divide by five

until he would
walk down the hall
turn off the lights
thunderclap his door

It was the party
at 3 a.m.
for someone
I didn’t know

that he
didn’t stop
or quiet down
even when I asked

even when
I had to make
a poor man’s bed
in my bathroom

just to dampen
the noise
just to
fall asleep

And back to
the plums
what a half
-hearted apology

Let it be known
that they were
on my shelf in
the icebox

Forgive me
he said
and maybe
I will

Maybe I will
once he’s
rotting away in a
rotting box

and maggots
are making meals
of his flesh
and regurgitating

to build
meat houses
in the orifices
of his skull

Until then
this is just to say
I hate you
and your stupid name

and your
stupid
wheelbarrow
and I hate that

you have eaten
the plums
because
you’re right

I was probably
saving
them
for breakfast

and I hate
even more
that you live
forever

embroidered
and fastened
into
my past

that I can’t
unthread you
and can’t
get rid of you

no matter
how the rain
falls on
my window