© 2004  Danny Wade

UNTITLED

There's a foot on its neck and jaw, holding it to the pavement. 
Why do they need a concrete drill for simple bone and meat? 
To pin for good, and for the good of all immobilize the skeleton bearing false flesh, exhaling rotten words
telling lies by breathing, eating,
truth by smoking, sleeping, decomposing. 
Let it rest here, augured through an eggshell head,
blood uncoiling along threads into the sympathetic earth beneath the city's encasement,

blood to carry the poison away and away and below, to where the earth still knows what to do with such ill. 

The land can soak away this blood, digest these bones and brains,
put these atoms to use in better ways,
than a thing whose choices lead to numbness within, maelstrom without,
so let its atoms find other ways to go, never to remember should they ever rejoin,
and let the fragile stop cringing and see, detached, how the thing slumps with time and does not rise, doesn't lacerate with hopeful, loving words. 

This ill thing, malformed, dangerous, copulating with mummified grief until its dick is excoriation, its love a canker sore,
with nothing to do except rest, but it does not rest. 
It maims.  It haunts and uglifies, chewing the last splinters of hope into pulp,
stabbing its mouth apart. 
It bleeds out loud and does not come to rest by choice. 

All work is copyrighted property of Danny Wade.

[back to top]  [home]