Spirited away

Remember

when you

told me to

hit you

as to become

some

interchangeable

chess piece

pawn

putting cigarettes out

on your skin

you thought in your

young broken

mind

I like the rest

wanted that

granted

instructed

excess

to feel power

but doll

you got it so wrong

and will keep getting

it

wrong

til they beat another

seven shades

out

and you’re spirited

to where you

imagine

feels better

than

here.

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Fire when ready

The minute a person

speaks of finding

themselves

know that they

never will

and every drunken

debauched

table top

frolic

will be forever

justification

of their search

which is inward

and eternally

movement backwards

towards all they think

themselves

worth

like a despicable

clock

wound horrendously

wrong

so that the hands

turn together

in conspiracy against

all the future

holds.

Burning pillows

It began as it always

does

with a drink thrown –

the terrible threat

of a decline

in comfort –

fewer electric lights –

absent popularity –

and finally

death

knocking

in the place of

neighbours

never known.

Years before

when I burned my

pillows

in the front yard

they said I was

crazy.

I merely

heard

the

thunder.

Listen

to the

thunder.

mugging and iced tea

For nearly thirty years

their asses

chiseled grooves

in stone stools

where checkers

had slid

in and under

sun strained

beneath talk of

girls had

and grandkids

and garters until

Ralph’s perspiring

glass

slipped

from his

old and tremulous

fingers as a claw

hammer

knocked Eliot sideways

and off to the after

like a baseball hit

of the century

they had heard

reconfigured

on the wireless

as birds picked up

breadcrumbs

deftly

and un

noticed