Even in death you look pretty
By maggyvaneijk
- 7453 reads
Would you like me now
Mr Death?
Up high on catatonia hill
wrapped in an aureole of
aloneness, too far away to care
about my messy hair or the pimples
on my forehead
When I allow myself to dream I
see milky arms around me but
I would never let you kiss me
like this.
Remember when we
were equally
messed up?
but you ran out of secrets
and mine weren’t
good enough.
You slept over on the Friday night
before…afraid of being alone you asked
me to stay whilst you showered
tears from your face. I promised
not too look but in silence I stood
closer than you thought – breathing
in plastic – your body a sheet
away.
If I do what I’m told I could be normal
but my wounds sing when I sleep polluting
snowy dreamfields with drips of
dog piss
and footprints
and old leaves
an image occurs
about giving birth to a telephone
the bloody cord wrapped around a screen
squeezing till it shatters
I wish I never saw you dead
helpless wrists outstretched
damson blood trickled down
like spilled ink over ancient paper
in these scenes you ask me to look
but I have to look the other way
and pretend to be staring at the sky
humming the rhythm of
stolen time:
now I see you,
now I don’t.
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Comments
this is wonderful maggy -
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Yes a very powerful poem
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You do have some words at
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An intriguing and powerful
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Fantastic piece.
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This sent shivers down my
Overthetop1
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wounds sing' Yeh, that
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The last stanza and last two
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I echo Luigi's
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Sorry I got here late,
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new maggyvaneijk Hello!
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I like the visceral rawness
barryj1
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maggy... it's all been said
ddf
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This is our Facebook and
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Agreed, agreed, agreed. Very
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Packed, as always, with
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I found this very moving,
TVR
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"You slept over on the
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Intense and rewarding to
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A wonderful poem that
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Many things I liked in this
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