Call me Infidel, or just call me Tom.
Call me handsome, call me cold, call me bitter, call me cad
call me No-Better-Than-Judas-Iscariot
call me bachelor, call me saint, call me numb.
I was abused, I was married, I took pills, I was left,
I was in love, I was a liar, I was a drunk, I was in debt,
I wrote a book, I had some fame, then I was dead,
‘til I was saved, I slept around, I was too young, I was bereft.
You are good, you are beautiful, you are kind, you forgive,
you are loving, you are smart, you’re adored and you are brave.
There’s no one else. It isn’t you. I’m circumspect. I’m full of doubt.
It wouldn’t work. We’re not alike. I don’t know what I want.
Call me weak, call me ingrate, call me ‘once bitten, twice shy.’
Call me anything, but please don’t say I make you want to die.
-- Kathryn Maris
"Doubting Thomas" appeared in Poetry London. For more about Kathryn Maris's book, The Book of Jobs, click here
