I hope I die in the rain so my blood
will wash into soil. And, God, I hope
you are not real, that sleep can not be
unnerved by harps or pitchforks. I doubt

feathered angels into the most perverted
fantasies. Their doll parts melt against
forked tongues. Sometimes I hurt in painless
places. Clouds appear as halos of scorn.

I look for you through windows, in moving
crowds. My eyes become needles and sew
the impossible onto this. This. I hope
I rot in sunlight, that civilizations

of multiple-legged kings earn history
under my ribs. I hope red worms eat
my eyes, wriggle through my last dream. I hope
they remember why breathing feels so good.

(Chronogram, 2008)


3 thoughts on “Suicide

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s