Confess short poem

Photo by JefferyTurner

We should have played truth or dare
instead we played confess.
This was down in the mildew basement
mother-in-law apartment an unrented rental
in a suburb notorious for its decline
of population. Confess someone would say
and point. It would be one thing
if we were fifteen but we were all over forty
had thought we’d seen it, done it all
then we started playing. Confess. Lies
are where we started until a gray-blonde woman
like a heavy-chested house frau admitted
she framed her mentally disabled younger sister
for killing the family cat after it had pissed
in her closet one time too many. Confess.
So stealing, betrayal, cheating, infidelity
here someone pointed out since we were all
married we were all infidels breaking vows
drinking from a variety of flasks week after week
drawn back together, a terrible tide, sucking
at each other to try and locate our collective bottom.
Confess. Drunk driving, promiscuity, screwing
over junior associates of their accomplishments,
cutting down superior children, abortion
and a mother who forced an abortion on her
only daughter, rape, larceny, sexual extortion
as a human resource manager turned an interview
into an evening of humiliation that never led
to a job. Confess. Someone asked about arson
then kicked open a closet half full of newsprint,
treason, regicide, bigotry, sedition, retaliation,
assassination, suicide. Confess. Who would guess
that every one of us brought their own matches.

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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2 Comments on "Confess"

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Balveen Cheema

Quite a spine chilling experience……and we all keep up the mask of holier than thou!


So that poem lit my fire, did I dare confess (to myself) I did then stopped and read your poem again and of course chuckled, hid my head, and even blushed, but thank goodness I had not killed anyone ha ha .
I enjoyed the poem.



Confess sonnet poems

How can I tell the tale of my little heart? Stuck snugly on the tip of my tongue, since long. Strengthen me; further delay may hurt her heart. Give me clues to confess, without prolonging. Even though we are so