“Sigmund, when did you first know
you wanted to kill your father
and take your mother as your lover?
Try hard to remember.”
I never did. That story is based upon
a case of mistaken identity.
Oedipus never knew his father.
A prophet told a lie that became
true. Laius and Jocasta believed
the prophecy and committed the most
hideous act of all knowingly.
“I see you don’t believe.”
That I want to kill my father? Sleep
with my mother? No, indeed.
“We don’t know what we want,
do we?”
I’ve never heard you say you wanted
to kill father, sleep with mother.
It’s always someone else’s truth
you know better than they do.
“Excuse me,” he says, bends over
the table, sits up, squeezes his nose,
runs a finger over his teeth.
“You need to understand the power
of the unconscious.”
Mine or yours? Or don’t you have one?
“I’ve had enough. I’m going to leave.”
Don’t say another word, you’ve said enough.
-Byron Hoot
visit hootnhowlpoetry.com
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