Poetry for Part-Timers

poetry for part-timers

If I had the courage I’d

Finish with a dramatic flourish

But I’d crash land with data

from the NASA shuttle

backed by brass band and

wearing brass knuckles

We had love but I stuffed it

in my trash bucket — moved on

clasped my buckle

Your strangelove strained doves

meet me with a pained touch

I unremember days rushed

Because the blade cuts where

the words stung

your spurned tongue hung a dirge on me

so I hurry on ’cause other girls love me

all the girls love me (?)

You sung gunpowder with your unbound attacks

Somehow you taxed from my Alpha

what happens when the hope runs out the door

lump in my throat cut from that cloth

but you spun out the spool

I am not marked bitterness a smart nigger is

never fazed by sharp criticism

so this time is that time snapped spinal

final lap over a cracked vinyl my hands tied

around that zephyr of a recollect

I found that letter that you sent

did I mention it had been discarded

a few cards short of a deck

some cards reshuffled

for effect

so no dramatic flourish you had it coming

you had it bludgeoned to death long ago

and it would be without this song I wrote