Is this how we go? With all
our intimate liquids on
display in clear plastic bags
and translucent cylinders?
Siphoned, plumbed, arranged around us?
With wild substances collected, measured and
hung within sight of an
adjustable bed?
Is this how we go? Yes.
With a constellation of words
floating lazily around the head.
No. With what has not been
said lingering, drifting.
Carnival goldfish dead
bobbing in a sandwich bag
of water.
2 responses so far ↓
paisley // May 24, 2008 at 12:30 pm |
and ever to the reason i have chosen not to know,, not to ask,, and to go when the time is nye… never allowing them the indignity of trying to save me…….
Jade // July 5, 2008 at 12:55 am |
reduced to liquid essence, we’re all dying and surviving