Monday, December 16, 2013
December Whatever
I remember looking away
The way I am told to
Do when having blood drawn
It seems an appropriate response
To having something vital being taken
From one's body
No doesn't mean anything
When you weigh 96 pounds
Two ounces of screaming could have stopped it
Or if a door would have been flung open
Anything close to a cry would have made it
What it really was
I spent the entire last summer punching
Every male around me square in the jaw
It was half the drinking problem
And half making up for lost time
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Found your blog most randomly, am enjoying your poems.
ReplyDeleteConsider breaking the second line thusly: "The way I am told to do / When having blood drawn"
I like when your thought and your language swerves together majorly, like the last stanza here or the last stanza in the newest one.
Here's something:
SONNET
by Bernadette Mayer
You jerk you didn't call me up
I haven't seen you in so long
You probably have a fucking tan
& besides that instead of making love tonight
You're drinking your parents to the airport
I'm through with you bourgeois boys
All you ever do is go back to ancestral comforts
Only money can get—even Catullus was rich but
Nowadays you guys settle for a couch
By a soporific color cable t.v. set
Instead of any arc of love, no wonder
The G.I. Joe team blows it every other time
Wake up! It's the middle of the night
You can either make love or die at the hands of the Cobra Commander