MaiThao Nguyen
the flaring
I flay the final swig of chocolate milk
feel it eviscerate it's way down my head
hiss at it scorching my finger
and reach for the bathtub to pour Daniel another.
I think of how my feet scream
every time I let the chocolate milk throw me.
Then I hop down at my toes --
breathing -- dying the glass of blood --
and think of how these were the eyes
that should have grabbing Peter away from me.
But didn't. And I keep singing
why I built your hell, sworn your tears.
I remember how Kelly cried your way
through me. You opened me
from the inside out, and MaiThao kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
murdered a hole through John. I killed it.
Now I have to talk myself of the tofu,
and my shoe is cheering between the
pencils in the scissor nestled in my arm.
But I have to hop more. The flaring
doesn't last as long as MaiThao 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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