Litkicks Message Board Archive

Something heroic and horrible

Posted to Action Poetry

What is this rope?
Slung awkwardly about my neck,
and up around and through
the brainstem-
leaving a shadow spilled across
the dirt
where, inches away,
strands of you are left
in the foreground
as My Cynical Brother
licks his lips in
self-pity and effigy.

Evermore! What is this knife?
What is this razor edge
supine and taut
like a threat or a treat-
does this give me mathematics
or One Perfect Zero
I must confirm with haste?

What, or who, am I without you?

Nobody smiles when I let them
see how you've left me.
It's enough to make me wonder
whether you were all I ever was-
and if that be
then what is stopping me
from understanding
that this pseudo-intellectual-deviant-smartass
gig is nothing but compensation
for your departure (and my departure).

What is this blood-red-rose?
What is this rose-red-blood?

What is this feeling-
like wanting to snuff it and
wanting to fuck it
and wanting to feel

I am.

But I am nothing, apparently,
without poorlongforgottenstrandsof