Goose Shit
by Evil Mary Oliver Who Lives in Your Head
You do have to be good.
In fact, you have to be perfect.
Having even one perturbation
will disqualify you from going to the grocery store.
You are obligated to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting,
backwards, in underwear
made of red-hot puff adders.
You can't let that soft, fallible animal of your body
love what it loves.
Are you kidding?
Tell me about despair, yours, and keep telling me,
and don't stop, or you'll completely explode
and go to jail, and then hell.
Meanwhile the world goes on without you.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of hailstones
are beating down on your head,
pouring into the buildings and deep gutters,
the corpse-laden mountains and the rivers--
did you read that article
about the one that turned bright yellow from pollution?
Meanwhile the wild geese, hissing and shitting everywhere
will not leave your yard.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
you can always get lonelier!
And I can help.
I call to you like the wild geese, harsh and intimidating,
over and over announcing your place--
oop, sorry, never mind,
someone else took it.
The director of cybersecurity from the Electronic Freedom Foundation is offering to help women who have been threatened with compromise of their devices.