Sunday, September 30, 2012

dear love

my body's punishing me for a scurried resurgence
my mind's the breaker of my my head,
spewing sacrements,
like heady wine,
to a stoic barrage
of homeless heathens,
queued for soup
and soapy conversation.

And there I am a ladle
to plunge and draw,
plunge and draw.
And there I am a hot syringe
to draw and plunge,
draw and plunge.

and here's the doctor again.
he's come to generalize
the contents of my stomach
he's come to call sorrow
a cure for early-onset alcoholism.

dear love,
the heart within my thigh
has a circular pulse,
fighting last night like a tantrum,
and waking to a flatline.


dear love, Oh love,
how will you wake me once you know me?

No comments:

Post a Comment