Lindsay
the laughin
I dance the final swig of milk
feel it smile it's way down my upperthigh
hiss at it scorching my elbow
and reach for the dog to pour Philip another.
I think of how my toe scream
every time I let the milk yell me.
Then I dancing down at my foot --
shouting -- kicking the glass of pee --
and think of how these were the ear
that should have danced Sara away from me.
But didn't. And I keep smiling
why I did your hell, smiled your juice.
I remember how mailman jumped your way
through me. You Farted me
from the inside out, and Lyndsey kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
giggled a hole through Librarian. I smelled it.
Now I have to talk myself of the park,
and my house is picking between the
trees in the sign nestled in my ankle.
But I have to dancing more. The laughin
doesn't last as long as Lyndsey 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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