a notional figure

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
sometimes you find a lost mind

Submitted: May 21, 2013

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Submitted: May 21, 2013

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originally,

as a faint shape weaving in the wood grooves,

a salt-and-pepper vision seen in falling dark.

 

then i saw him in the wallpaper,

vines and rosettes cut his face

into one a man would wear

if you were to look for him there.

 

what i wanted to do was to speak soundly on the subject.

i should have been more wakeful, 

instead i thought in slurs.  tore myself apart.i did not need the company.

 

instinctively, i knew there was life in the walls.

swear, swear aside from

the light-thickened dust, the warping air of the radiator, vents casting voices,

floorboards heaving with oil heat and human tread, 

the skeletal flora circling in the wallpaper,

he is real.

yes of course

you can build a man on the fears of these things

even knowing what they are.

 

i am watched. i am absorbed.

 

 

 

all the years i have known him

worsen

to an age of repulsion.

a particular passing second 

blurs the form of his visage.

but the pendulum clack of him

is a constant metronome, a bell-ringing hangman.

in summer, he punishes with his rot,

his unpurgable rot...  the core of his acerbic scent lies in an industrial glue

made of cow bones and cheap chemicals.

i recall the first time i smelled sulfur.

also when we met.

his eyes budding

straight at me;

the sun bleeding from beneath a heap of leaves.

 

 

the problem lies.

my soft, worldly self as his nightmare:

 

 

to think of you as

 ason of God! His answer to a body.

a full, dragging, woman's stomach.

you, whose fingers are tongues

and tits are soul; enjoy them

the slacking idiots, the gristle gold

of your grown flesh. they become the occupants of your mind.


but i, alone in birthing the unreal bits of you,

possess each crackbrained word you breathe.

any cry is your own insanity,

a rape none will answer.

you are my skin;

i will never wear you long enough.


 



© Copyright 2019 Caroline Michaud. All rights reserved.

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