If They Come For Me

Tell them I was here a while,

that I loved some good women,

but that the ones I loved best

left.

If they try to break down my door,

tell them I wrote a lot of poems, too many,

perhaps, and some plays, and two novels.

Tell them none of this paid my rent

or bought me clothes or paid

the bills.

If they try to come through a window,

tell them I came here when I was young

and handsome with a dark beard and long

hair. Make sure they know I was a good

teacher who gave his best to his

students, but that this was not

what the authorities wanted

from me.

If they manage, somehow, really manage,

to finally get in and take me, tell them

I broke every law that was unfair, that I

needed to find a way to live, to be a father,

to keep myself sane, to eat, to sleep,

and on occasion to make love.

And if that’s not enough, tell them

to go fuck off, because there will be nothing

else to say to

them.