Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Lacerations

A chalice cold with ancient wine
golden gild and marked with time.

Glint on razor's edge-
ringed round the lip.
What must we pay
for one violent sip?

A stoop to grasp the shining stem
and lift unto the lip.
Beaded blood on thread of time.
Then drop of wine, and hit -
the floor a rolling
cup - I let my hand unfold
And so it lays me slowly down
in ecstasy - and cold.

Burn the red and deeper goes
alcohol on tongue, in nose.
Deeper yet, it cuts through flesh
finding pathways razor left.

Cut and burn - the cleaner wound
makes day run into sleep.
Cut and burn - an end so crude
The price to live so steep.

2 comments:

  1. This is my favorite. Care to enlighten me some more as to its meaning? i THINK i get it, but after all, you are a strange and deep man. We should start a poetry/prose alliance.

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  2. Suffering and Glory.
    Existentialism and Theism.
    Brokenness and perfection.

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