Poem 14

Ode to the Last Word.
Do I need them?
To slice those syllables through this
Good effort on his part.
You’re not trying. You’re not trying.
Did I need to say that when I knew he was…
Do I need them
To make him feel small so we could appear the same size.
I could fit inside a pocket or an hour glass.
Curling up like this,
Shrinking smaller and smaller.
Oh, Last Words, you stretch my limbs outward.
You make me strong.
You fill the room with my dagger-tongue.
Oh, Last Words, so much trouble and so little effort.
So little contemplation opening and closing my lips around you.
I hurt;
 I hurt and now so can he—
As you undulate upon his eager ears.
Holding his breath for an apology or praise but only
Receiving the prickle of unfair truths—cripples.
But through his eyes a great squid he wrestles
With taught line and tossing ship
Heaving and holding with bloody blistered hands
Eight arms wrapping around: studies, house-mates, obligations,
chores, needs, wants, promises and frustrations,
Clashing. Knot-muscled into the broad planks of his vessel.
And with every blow he pulls the beast towards him.
He inches the rope nearer, tangling furious limbs.
So close—the port side rocking with momentum—and his
Hoarse breath against the salt-sprinkled air.
Almost tangible, the defeat of this impossible balancing act,
The wriggling tendrils twisting; aching to resurface.
Nearly dominated—inches from tracing the rubber flesh of
This determined catastrophe with his triumphant fingertips.
But then,
With my bitter tongue curling,
And my floor saught eyes closing,
I snap the line.


Poem 14 Editing – Poem 14 Revised (coming soon)

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