samedi 9 janvier 2010

whatever it takes

i'll hold it between my thighs
like a football

slam it into chords, give it a melody
hum it into obscurity

invite the raccoons at the door
to come in and eat their fill

call the rains down
pass out for days

you'll find me

quiet and dependent
so you can love me at will

something has to love this
thing we call a life

you are often gone now
on mulitple errands

or to your bed to compose
happier dreams

downstairs is a dying woman
on a couch

nothing makes us sadder
than to talk about that

hiding from mirrors
swallowing clonazepam

whatever it takes
not to talk about it

whatever it takes
not to feel a thing

1 commentaire:

Mary Stebbins Taitt a dit…

Again so sad, especially the ending.

Who is the dying woman?

I'm glad you are up there smiling to reassure me.