Saturday, May 24, 2008

a sample

And how sweet it is to subtly

fade

and from behind the scenes

scent the warmth

of the unaffected, undirected, unassuming


And how warm it is to forget

me

and blended with the wall

pen in hand

watch the kindling flames of my living kindred


And how many years to gently

break

and gentlier remake

paper ties

those first-born, pre-forged—into this bond of


(burdened, burnished)


death and life—how

full of burning glory and

sweet-brimming mercy


love, God; enough,

Enough! for

the world


and you pour

a sample into

my own, poor, withered, sullen,

heart. It beats. And what--


Did I say—did I say---O!

I told you it was worthless, this love

that it was wasted on worms

that you should take it

and bleed on another's grave

to make them clean

and thus, succinctly, effectively

spurned

my birthright


Did I say—did I step—O!
With my unholy shod feet

on your ravaged dead body

to pretend it never happened

that I was not responsible,

and therefore could not profit

like the rest

of the world


Because, naturally, you did it for love alone

There was no obligation. Did I sin?

Well, I can't help that. Don't love me, then.

Didn't I tell you they tortured me?

Aren't you to blame for that?

Or isn't that to blame for everything?

Didn't I tell you--

that I was not responsible,

and therefore could not profit

like the rest

of the world


Did I—Did I say—O.

You hold that foot of mine

Like Jacob, like Achilles

So that when I turn away (perpetually, invariably)

I twist and spin

Back to you at the zenith of tension

With a dislocated hip

and untold blessing

1 comment:

Erika said...

Thanks for writing this.