(no subject)
This is the one time it's necessary
This is the one time it's right:
Like Arcadia,
Where the lines moved back and forth.
Because
I am only here because you died
Because
I'm a baby in the arms of the dead, white as chalk,
Fleshless, wombless, woven out of words.
My clock was ticking down before it began.
I barely draw breath
Before you make me your headline
Your front line:
Like Arcadia,
Where the lines moved back and forth.
The book's out of pages.
I leave you
Splashed in the shoulder with the kind of ink that never washes out.
Right, comrade, it’s the hour of the garden
Psalm 139
This is the one time it's right:
Like Arcadia,
Where the lines moved back and forth.
Because
I am only here because you died
Because
I'm a baby in the arms of the dead, white as chalk,
Fleshless, wombless, woven out of words.
My clock was ticking down before it began.
I barely draw breath
Before you make me your headline
Your front line:
Like Arcadia,
Where the lines moved back and forth.
The book's out of pages.
I leave you
Splashed in the shoulder with the kind of ink that never washes out.
Right, comrade, it’s the hour of the garden
Psalm 139