There Must Be Something Wrong With The Glass, Maybe

A meditative poem

 

1

A ghost forces himself to see

me. I pull the shades, go about my day.

 

2

Purple rings culled open the red of his socket, exposed--

across the street, his pea soup spoon eyes stare past me;

a rude b*****d,

we don’t even know each other.

I’m a tumor of sorts.

 

3

The smell of cracked meteorites lingers like decomposing corpses, exquisitely

he stays uncreviced, out there past window. It discomforts me in my own kitchen. Boiled meat fumes.

 

4

I dreamed fire flowed down his cheeks, after that.

Fat hot rain on a windshield,

he is cool, collected I mean.

I bet his flesh stunk for miles though.

 

5

 His dead chest bulb flickered yellow sprouts of etheral fuzzies

fizzies into my eye, the first crisp openup of a 4 a.m. Coors.

I thought I saw his eyes roll to the earth attic

last sleep, oh well.

There is nothing on the ground but the ground, I guess

 

6

 A stony liquid fell from my forehead in the bathroom one morning

it swallowed me silver on the toilet--appropriate--a thick lead paint

homicidal molasses or something sticky and rotting fat-sweet

like whatever did that

to his teeth,

to make him smile at me from the tub 

a couple of those seal men, too.

A goddam freak-show, or grotesque fetish, something.

 

7

I am a pebble, sometimes.

the world skips along lily pads--fun

solar system, sure.

 

8

The Sun is pissed at me, probably--

I don’t plant trees for anyone, either

 

9

I could stand to have him in my mouth if he had a him

to put there

At least he couldn’t stare at me, stuck there in my teeth.

 

10

What kind of sound does a thought like that make?

 

11

The soft shutter of a bloodroot closing when the moon says so,

his voice is only half a whisper on a gargoyle’s shoulder

I’m doing okay, ignoring its misty breeze

over the bed.

 

12

Maybe someone painted his body and gave him a voice for me--for

fun,

or some hopscotch.

Artistic poetica sidewalk chalk

gone schizophrenia, maybe. When was the last time you cleaned

your mirrors?

Reviews

[Lauren]

This is haunting and creepy and wonderfully written. The descriptiveness you used really makes it. I don't see this type of writing on here often and I love it.

[Lauren Burgess]

Wow, thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)