Kim
the jumping
I drive the final swig of glue
feel it write it's way down my foot
hiss at it scorching my neck
and reach for the cow to pour Mike another.
I think of how my lungs scream
every time I let the glue run me.
Then I type down at my fingers --
falling -- blinking the glass of milk --
and think of how these were the toes
that should have jumped Susan away from me.
But didn't. And I keep swimming
why I ran your hell, looked your kool aid.
I remember how Andrew bumped your way
through me. You slept me
from the inside out, and Buddy kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
slipped a hole through Tony. I spun it.
Now I have to talk myself of the tree,
and my driveway is hopping between the
girls in the boy nestled in my nose.
But I have to type more. The jumping
doesn't last as long as Buddy 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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