Prosthesis somewhere deep and dark

Or: To go calm at least

Peace there in a cup.
Tainted so. A thinner
longer pint of what I want
dearly, dearly, though
in this two-by-two room
I squat reaching one armed.
The busy other talks,
“Am I enough for you?
Will you walk me through parks,
lay me down, talk sweet
while gawking others watch?
Name me first, your sculpture,
the only love you may beat
hard as the first winter heat.
I’ll lend you a knuckle
if you lend me your eyes only,
leave those heartbeats alone
and heave your breath.
They will grief your head
and only I can make you moan
though I cannot marry,
cannot hug, or carry you home.”
I pour the hemlock in my ears
for I have stayed too long lonesome,
too long with my company of fear.

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~ by Jeremy on December 20, 2010.

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