Stop
looking through the mirror
into the past.
remorse
is beyond incantation’s power
to mend,
no matter how many goats
you sacrifice
to the god of
vanity.
no surgeon
can exorcise the baited
barbed hooks.
those voices
are sticky,
beyond the reach
of any physicians
steel blade.
you need another kind of
necromancer
for that.
you cover yourself in scars
for the benefit
of strangers,
but I
see
you.
we grew out of adolescence
like swans,
origamied
from plain
white
paper.
but you,
shrunken and hollow,
did not.
no fingers
caressed your
alien
geometry.
you can’t heal
an emotional problem
with a physical solution.
that’s rule number four.
none of us are blind
to euphoria’s
contagion,
except you and your
sequined barbie doll army,
your faces rearranged
into a blank
smiling
anonymity.
blood alone
is not enough
to pay the devil.
I can smell your spitted
and roasting heart
from here,
sweating a clear
oceanic plasma
over white
powdered
embers.
split your tongue
right down the middle,
it won’t stop
the reverberating
echoes.
babe,
we all have
x-ray vision,
and
bones...
don’t
lie.
mt forest
January 24 2015
#322
This image came from a photograph of a deer skull that my friend Ian gave me. I like skeletons, and bones. I find them sculptural and beautiful. I have a small collection of bones of different kinds.