Do you think the end of the world will come at nighttime?
Uh-uh. At dawn.
Chattering mouths — pattering feet —
Sweet tones — tongues — cloying, say
Bon mots — grin — wink — nice place to meet:
Graceful place — face — plasticene —
I’m appropriate — natural
Even — nicely dressed — a smile
To match — metallic depth; factual:
Hollow stereoscopy —
I swing every way to play the
Right parts — leave out the mess —
Split me — whichever way — maybe:
Laconic and loquacious — definite yet epicene —
Amusing — thankfully.
Wheels, cogs, machinery,
That’s what it seems
To me to be —
Pity.
So swiftly all my doubts return —
My comely grace like Babel
Falls — now I am forced to learn —
Relearn — my comfortable old hobble.
Oblivion like dusk falls fast —
Creeping, I find the shade
That I had left behind — I, at last,
Rejoin the world I made;
Here’s my Martinette — she likes to berate
Me — to spit in my face
And tease and taunt and deprecate,
Restore my rightful place:
Cocooned in languid, purple sighs
In plaintive condition,
I watch Her world through coupled thighs,
That dreamy perdition.
My eyes are windows in Her storm
As rainfall beats the panes;
My chest a roof of tin whose form
Protests and yet remains.
She never hisses, never shouts,
Why would my Martinette?
With soft complexion free of doubts
She paints my last sunset,
And chimes that dread conclusion in
That same beleaguered tone
Which pulverises each confusion
As a hammer does to bone;
Whatever way I might resist
Falls limp under Her glare
Which pins the wind, expels the mist,
Eviscerates with care.
Yet Martinette is bound despite
Her overflowing ire
To let me go back to the light;
I leave Her wailing from the pyre
And exit by the gift shop stocked
With stores of vivid dead things
Laid out in a collection of
Morbidities — eccentricities
Like dead wishes beside dead fish
And universes rolled
And squeezed into mothballs
On pedestals of mould,
And lofty goals which — on a shelf — are set
Betwixt a jar of hearts and a taxidermied marmoset;
So long — my Martinette.
The seas begin to sink —
A thousand thoughts return to sleep
Within — just one — sarcastic wink —
The void of ease begins to seep
Out across the scene — my mind —
Wrapped up — once more — in that constricting bind:
Graceful place — face — plasticene —
Hollow stereoscopy —
Laconic and loquacious — definite yet epicene —
Amusing — thankfully.
I know it is a flaw — to desire —
Know it is short-sighted — daft — ignorant —
But more than the rest — this thought is higher:
I miss my Martinette.
