sandy
the chewing
I gnaw the final swig of bile
feel it bite it's way down my lip
hiss at it scorching my hair
and reach for the princess to pour sister another.
I think of how my arms and legs scream
every time I let the bile kick me.
Then I swing down at my eyes --
singing -- lifting the glass of blood --
and think of how these were the jaw
that should have jumped Laura away from me.
But didn't. And I keep hittting
why I hit your hell, hurt your tears.
I remember how Jym cried your way
through me. You laughed me
from the inside out, and Mom kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
sang a hole through Kate. I shouted it.
Now I have to talk myself of the dog,
and my monkey is killing between the
fleas in the feather nestled in my toe.
But I have to swing more. The chewing
doesn't last as long as Mom do(es).
---
Original poem:
the burning
(written June 8, 1989)
I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.
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