Theme: Love

Perpetual Fear

~ For My Wife ~
I awoke to find myself dead
Thursday morning,
Kendra had warned me
this would happen one day.

My first thoughts were that
they should not lie to us with
milk-glass fear,
wallpaper our eyes black and deep;

While September men hurt
in their hair-blood synapse differences,
shuffle from one false concentric
circle to another,
like organ/saint/pocket-death/drowning/
like goats laughing as dogs.

If I were a woman, my belly-fuck
eyes would not leave my hazel mind,
would not eat machine-planted
fear and spit out a war.

If I were a bird-faced woman
stalk-clicking through warm
sugarcane fields, no terror-gable
government could slice my red
autopsy with lullaby cloture death;

I could fly from perpetual fear,
from bone-rattle shame of captivity.
But I awoke to find myself dead
Thursday morning, and Kendra
had already buried away my fear.


More By  :  Michael Paul Ladanyi

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