Quatorzain 456

Liza, I’m learning the power of fear,
and I don’t care a damn for it!          today
the sun shines elsewhere, my teeth are caught down
low in my throat, cold sweat beads on my brow,
marrow has turned to fetid water, blood
spilled out over night—I’m certain gremlins
replaced it with lipton’s tasteless iced tea—
heart no muscle but a bony fist holding
something black like tar, perhaps the fossiled
remains of old loves and lessons discarded
in effigies burned to light pity parties:
lives gone by, exchanged for something . . . different,
never better, and no matter how green
the grass . . . I never had the stomach of a goat.

David M Pitchford
3 Dec 2011


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