![]() The Sorely-Spent SuicideA Poem by Amorette Duvannes![]() This is for the man of whom my letters are all for -- and why an Art exam destroyed me.![]()
Don't let me think of you, darling dear--
The quick elastic snap of my impressionability Will break wind the minute your rags and eyes Look into me like a bank, of superior rank-- My mouthless words come whimpering from me as if An electroshock motel for the being afraid; A sort of broken-beaked hummingbird With a chord strung out by the Wind's harsh, bronzed-knuckled fingers. For the sweated wind, tied and abridged by the forthright stare That breaks the static line of my motion Pulls the lips away from me and all I love, Don't let me sit too long, stirring in my own awake light Brewing in the silence like a puddle gazing awe-struck By the thunderous moon -- who is not so great, who steals, Who thieves, the morning light of the daring dear. Do not let me be, for you, or for the candescence you provide, A bucket of longing in your sullen drip-drip-drip. A sweater raged for the burning amber fuel, You call to me, leant against the cool, white paste A casual leniency, but it is not that I know you dare Until you follow me through a labyrinth of my own making Like the dream you stalked me in just weeks before, A hungry murderer trotting through the dead moss To get to me, I reach for you in the same right, Dead as night -- no, I don't: I have no right. I wish, crave, pine for you; a call to you, The desert blue, the golden calm of my sweet labour Dwindling, spindling -- specky little wrist, Drawing the words out of glue for you, killing the line of ants To take over God from you. And I have been left for too long, Over-heated, or left to dry, and now razor-pimpled, Like a goose in poverty -- they let me think of you, They let me spike my drinks with you, of you, and through you-- The deed, they say, has ripened past plucking And I, in my last right, scratch the last candle-wick, Dripping molten Godly gas - the bitter stake you, Twist it into myself, the last one burning in a field of the night.
© 2014 Amorette Duvannes |
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