Listen:
love isn't instantaneous like
children's prayers, it's a process
that squirms its way through
every vein in your body and
explodes when it reaches the temple.
It continues
like yesterday in the phantasm-dusk cornfield
when the words fought in my throat
for something like release and you
clipped the red wire
in my chest with your secret -
it's over, it's over
go home because
my word soldiers have died -
you do not love in the human way,
and now you can't be
a Baptist anymore.
It's a joke, and a bad one
or you went insane out there among
the crumbling earth
and leaves that sang
like a boys' choir
or else we were both drunk
on irony and I dreamed it all.
Mea culpa
because every blink and heart-twitch of
these past three years
that kept me burning and alive
are buried with everything
I almost said
and the heresy
that is your mind.
Author notes
I live in a Greek tragedy.
A contest entry
- 952 hearts by formless.
300 points, ended October 16, 2008, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Best of Poetry by headintheclouds.
450 points, ended October 30, 2008, 44 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
How can I make it better?
Comments
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I really love this poem. I love everything about it.
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yOU cant make it better! its A mazing Good write! Good luck in my contest! Thanks for entering!
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not quite what I was looking for in this contest, but I appreciate your entry. (and as a side not, you have some brilliant imagery!)
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when did i miss this one? ahhh!
"phantasm-dusk cornfield"
"you do not love in the human way,
and now you can't be
a Baptist anymore."
"are buried with everything
I almost said
and the heresy
that is your mind."
uh huh. it goes without saying.
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