not waving but drowning.

Alone-in-Sea-Wallpapers-9

Nobody heard him, the dead man,   
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought   

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he’s dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,   

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always   
(Still the dead one lay moaning)   
I was much too far out all my life   
And not waving but drowning.
Stevie Smith, “Not Waving but Drowning” from Collected Poems of Stevie Smith. Copyright © 1972 by Stevie Smith. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.

PROSE BEFORE HOES

How can I tell anyone
that I’ve gone back on my word?

How do I break it to Dad
that I’m reconsidering death again?
Not the conventional methods this time,
but by letting the cancer eat its fill?
The same thing that happened to his mother’s brain.
The father’s mother with whom I share a name.

How can my mother know
not to expect grandchildren, adopted or otherwise?
When test results become tabulated lies?
That her daughter uses her scorched earth for something else?
Cold sweat and old threats.
Don’t worry your pretty little head.

She’s in your area.
She knows the first three numbers.

When you come out, your shit is gone.
Just don’t follow me down the stairs… my shortcut hurts.

Tell the usual suspects I’ll be different.
Better behaved and truly submissive.
Good girls don’t have gag reflexes
or any real guts at all.
We wait until we’re hit before we say anything, right?
Fuck me apart and I won’t say shit… just let me sit in it for a minute.

Or I won’t say anything and let the results speak for themselves.
Because it’s not down to me to tell anyone anything anymore.
If you really must know
then you gotta stick around for the clean-up.

I wouldn’t and you shouldn’t.

CHIVALRY

WHITE TRASH MELTDOWNS
CRYING CHILD BRIDES
PAPER HEARTS CAN’T FLY VERY FAR.

YOU KNOW DEEP INSIDE
YOU’D HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE HIS SISTER
HE SAVED A SEAT, WHICH HELPS.

DON’T JUMP ON THE BED ON THE LAWN. IT’S FULL OF STRAW AND SQUEEZE.
YOUR HEELS SINK IN. LET THEM GO. YOU DON’T NEED THOSE.

SO HE’S YOUR RIDE, SURE, FINE
DON’T STRING HER UP JUST TO CUT HER DOWN
JUST PUSH ONE PUSH HARDER DON’T CUT HER.

JUST HARD ENOUGH TO FEEL HER THROAT CLOSE AROUND A FINGER
IT’S STILL WHOLE
COVERED IN PHLEGM
SO IT GOES DOWN EASY AGAIN.

SILLY STRAWS FOR STUPID WHORES
SINK YOUR HEELS IN AND LET THEM GO.
SQUEEZE THOSE KNEES SO THEY FIT.
YOU DON’T NEED THOSE
KNEES CLOSE
TIGHT ENOUGH TO SIT

ONE MORE PUSH BUT YOU CAN’T CUT.

Formes Frustes – Chivalry (2015)