Monday, October 31, 2011

II and III

II is dead because he had
no voice no words no mouth no thoughts
grinding enamel on dry enamel.
Count the perforations on the dirty white ceiling.

A shadow, a memory, a flag stuffed in a box.
Sterile air and blinding walls
Suck the air from his mouth, but
leave the stick and suffocation.

She waited -- festering, swelling
III would come but II
would be gone.
Leave her in the middle.

Three quarters of a year
and II left his scar -- but
III beat in her heart.
Tickle the air in her nostrils.

Two became one became two again
and they screamed
as two missing their third
never alone but never whole.

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