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Grave - 2009 Version
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Poems 2009 Grave:
as in that slab of marble so elegantly imbedded in your cheekbones,
rubbed raw until that rotten-sweet vintage that
blossomed on your tongue as it split in half
spilled sweeter than honey and thick as molasses
over your haggard lips.
Are you able to see past the dim remains of your eyelids?
You incised the works of Rembrandt in techno-color into them
as the acid burnt through your cranium.
Or can’t you recall?
I held a razorblade out to you
and prayed you knew to caress the vein from crook to knobby wrist.
Vilification had seemed your drug of choice
until recently when eyes roamed through you and
lips opened wide to engulf your spew of noxious adjectives.
May I say, Sweet Child, that vowels only travel so far
before some action must be taken.
Are your threats as hollow as your cheekbones?
Or will you allow me to glare at your gravestone?
