(no subject)
Death Dream 1
“Bang.”
The shot was fired, barrel kissing my abdomen
with an open mouth much closer than it had to be
to be fatal. The bullet felt guilty
in that inanimate way; I felt
an ache too great to be accepted,
like a terminal anorexic hunger,
like the quick blinking performed by eyes
to see less of a life that should end.
I slumped in the metal doorframe of my home
where strangers hid- knew that walking out
into the day would be the most impressive feat
to show any new, adoptive god. Staggering
clutching crying water down my cheeks
I am in mourning. I can’t die
somewhere that isn’t more beautiful than streets.
Then there was the Baptist church.
And the man in the garden was kind, wanted to save
my soul and quit my tears but didn’t notice the hole
in my stomach. Let me stay here
I am pleading. I don’t need God
just the flowers he grows let me
wait here
until the waxy grass against my cheek
feels less green, stops breathing
into me. In the small courtyard everyone I love
knows to gather, their twisting faces behind me
and miles of tulips ahead.
“Bang.”
The shot was fired, barrel kissing my abdomen
with an open mouth much closer than it had to be
to be fatal. The bullet felt guilty
in that inanimate way; I felt
an ache too great to be accepted,
like a terminal anorexic hunger,
like the quick blinking performed by eyes
to see less of a life that should end.
I slumped in the metal doorframe of my home
where strangers hid- knew that walking out
into the day would be the most impressive feat
to show any new, adoptive god. Staggering
clutching crying water down my cheeks
I am in mourning. I can’t die
somewhere that isn’t more beautiful than streets.
Then there was the Baptist church.
And the man in the garden was kind, wanted to save
my soul and quit my tears but didn’t notice the hole
in my stomach. Let me stay here
I am pleading. I don’t need God
just the flowers he grows let me
wait here
until the waxy grass against my cheek
feels less green, stops breathing
into me. In the small courtyard everyone I love
knows to gather, their twisting faces behind me
and miles of tulips ahead.