i still feel it—i do
a little
but nothing hurts
like it should
anymore
the bullets
the blades
they just go
through and through
a little twitch
like a snagged sleeve
quick movement, deep inside
like a needle sliding out
in the dentist’s chair
i stagger
i know
i’m hurt
but i can only
stumble on…
put a shotgun to my belly
pull the trigger:
tell me he’s in love with someone else
and i will fall
to my knees
and weep
or at least
howl…
cold black trickles
running down
my face
i can feel the rage
i can feel the shame
i can see
a gaping tunnel
blasted straight through
me
over which
i grieve
but still i rise
still i move
still i hunger,
helpless
mindless
on and on
and on
the flame–cold power
of seeds in winter
will not let me die
and so
silent
my eyes plead
and my heart whispers
the zombie’s prayer:
O Great Power
Whose Name i Do Not Know
please, Lord
please…
just let me fall.