A Poem That Picks a Fight

no Saturday.
the right away.
woke up wrong. 
knew it. 

from the second I opened my eyes. 

in spite of cookies.
and secret animals. 

I cried.
and fought a doctor. 
gave him a knife.
to win. 

is this the right away?

skin hanging off my calves.
sweaty dirty.
but good. 
some celestial form. 

I hope certain sorrows are never repeated.