wait while the ghosts of dead families decide my sentence—
the judge is out and the jury sits in the big chair with a mallet
and pounds little birds into the woodwork
please! duct tape my heart to the inside of my head!
turn my skin inside out, maybe then, maybe then
clara barton will run away!
i dare you! look away from that cancerous dance in a box,
look me in my eye
and oh! how our insanity shall multiply!
do you feel it? the creeping madness?!
the hurtling stone in the heart, the bitter sneer of the lip
the excrement of a thousand subconscious lusts tingling in your toes!!?
and i will kick and kick and maybe finally, finally
my foot will fly off and land on the boardroom table,
and the moldy beasts with their black leather briefcases
will shrink back in terror while i hop to the kitchen to get a bagel
but oh! my love! if you read this will you still put my head on your heart?
will you still kiss my neck, run your hand down the appalachia of my ribs
and smile?
lightning! make me your mistress, we will find electric pleasures in the angry clouds
and i will hide in the forest when the sun comes home from work!
don't look! don't look! don’t look to the sea!
for salt and spray have betrayed you and me
and our boat's beams are made of bones
i am but a stone's throw from the chains of the sane—
thank god there are only boulders here.
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1 comment:
Saw this on Drive-By Poets. Very impressive.
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