Panacea

[Echelon]

Panacea



1. Emily


one night I wander waywardly. Aimlessly along the rayless streets
past granite shanties, befogged by rain and sleet, not one warm nook to lay and sleep
then I find you. A curly little caterpillar, who'd crawled beneath the trestle
sleepy, nestled in the dying Whitlow and Shepherd's-Purse that streaks the pebbles
pipe still hot and redolent - your ring-less fingers scorched a coffee-hue
hair as black as fossil-fuel, a dog-eared shower curtain shrugged on top of you
the sign above the bar blinks apple-neon, one broke bulb is a crypt for the flies
you've pissed on your thighs, head cranked back and tilted, like you're kissing the sky
you're beautiful. Below the methane emissions that hang like a rainbow
i lay my head on this magnanimous angel, fall fast asleep in her halogen halo
she wakes. Her crystal eyes, they fall on me like breaking waves on sand
and when i kneel to present the rock, she doesn't hesitate to take my hand

~

2. Tomorrow

dear Emily,

you left, i descended. Every time i close my eyes, i see the eels
bloated, black aliens ... wheezing with disease, more than even the streets can yield
their sweltry hide's like boiled kale, moist and pale - they're eating me
nowadays you're keeping clean, but I had no such grace bequeathed to me
i shan't lie. The sidewalk would be softer, if i had your hand to hold
had you not gone back to home, this concrete - would not be, quite so damp and cold
don't you remember? How we set into motion no fettering notion of honour or pride?
slinging rock on the side? - we were Ben Sanderson and Sera, we were Bonnie and Clyde
regardless, i still chalk my poems on the boulevard ... maybe you read them
it's like you always said, they make that little square of pavement an Eden
don't worry, i won't post this letter, it would only be fueling my sorrow
please love me. please love me.

yours truly,

Tomorrow

~

3. Panacea

now you'll see me. You fucking robot, your garden is so sickly green
home so crisp and clean, ph-neutral soap, pro-plus, propane pumps and Listerine
crow bar up beneath the lintel - easy, simple, tears and splinters blend with the rain
it bends with the strain, the oak cracks, I hesitate - then remember the pain
the guardian comes - a shabby old Terrier, hardly a vessel of speed and strength
she's in less than decent health. But our eyes align and for a moment, i see myself
an LP hiccups under a needle, from buzzard to beetle, creatures preserved for exhibition
it's thin and brief; some inner peace - but there's no extradition from this mental prison
i creep up the stairs, my whitened knuckles lightly brushing the balustrade
i am afraid. But Emily, you said to me - you promised you'd never take your hand away
wherever you go the pain will follow
i'm just a bad dream, of course. But at least you've faced Tomorrow.

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...

[Wordz AhGod.]

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