his power is that of negation
shoulder-herald cawing an old song
into the ring of your ear,
into the shell of your skull
his cadence is double-negative
whatever you say, derivative
whatever you feel, chemical
his power is that of negation
you are a soft machine filled
with blind mechanisms
his talons toy with switches in your navel
Old prince, never king, he flits around
with wedding rings,
delights in impossible promises
bowed heads, arched necks
‘In the bed now,’ he says,
‘then in the distant cell of memory,
then in the haze of nonexistence-better yet a hot flash behind your eyes
while your vehicle swerves and flips and skins the road’
do you think vultures can taste longing
beyond the acid on their tongues?
little star, never sun
did you know they ate the sky while you were still young?
there was once a ladder made of moonlight
do you remember the smooth breeze of platinum in your hands?
no, you wouldn’t, would you
I plucked the memory from you
as you would a daisy,
petal by petal
until there’s no wonder left
only metal
shoulder-herald, earth-bound son
he reaches and he winds and winds
he hides under your hat and in the barrel of your gun
his power is that of negation
knocking on your door, sliding down the bannister
You know how it ends already,
he curls around your eyes
pale claws picking at your mind
why do anything?
why be anything?
why breathe at all?
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