Bill

By C. Quintana

I named my inner critic Bill,

then he became my colleague

Sparkling grey eyes; salt-and-pepper hair—

Why are you here, Bill? Why are you hurting?

Across my desk in the ivory armchair—

Smile an inch from crying

I named my inner critic Bill

My inner critic Bill named I

I, Bill, inner named critic, my

Critic Bill named my inner I