No Piece of Mind

he built us up.

daily, flattering and buttering and sucking.

saying: your hair, your eyes, your lips, your teeth!

they sparkle, shine, gleam, and sit pretty.

we took it all in and somehow always made room for more. 

overlogged sponges, but

feeling taller, standing straighter

sometimes as many as twelve compliments a day,

each. 

we got used to it.

how could you not

then winter solstice came.

in perfect synchronization with that longest, darkest day,

he changed.

as the minutes clicked by, he shrunk away. 

stopped watching, looking, smiling.

even ceased to speak. 

which meant the compliments didn't come.

the well dried up and with it 

all our pride and overhealthy self-esteems

we devolved, became 

animals and clawed 

at the ground then each other 

with our uncut nails. 

still he said 

nothing. 

so we conferred. late at night 

when he slept on the old futon 

shoved in the corner of that front room.

and decided. we had to leave.

to find another prophet

who would notice and flatter and butter

to get us back on track.