I hate this feeling—
Eric Blanchard grew up in Houston, Texas. He earned degrees in philosophy (B.A.) and jurisprudence (J.D.). Eric has practiced law, written appellate briefs, been editor-in-chief of an international trade law journal, and worked for a state representative in the Texas legislature.
Eric's poetry has been published in numerous literary journals and reviews, both on-line and in print, including Autumn Sky Poetry, Rust and Moth, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Pudding Magazine, and Mock Turtle Zine.
He currently resides in Dayton, Ohio with his beautiful girlfriend, her young son, three dogs, and two tiny fish.
as if I've done something wrong.
I did not make the milk jugs leak.
It's not my fault the dogs
rolled in the morning dew and
brought the dampness in.
I did not know you were
saving the pickles for Max.
Your taxes are due, and
you used your last check last night.
(I thought you were happy
you could now change your name.)
It's not my fault you're a woman.
I did not design your body.
I'm sorry you don't have time
to practice, to run with Celeste,
to spend time with your son,
to sleep late, to be alone.
I was only trying to help.