“Dry Drown”

The more I know I know

I know nothing, No, Nothing

But I understand

How the Dry Drown called you

Euthanasia

You shut it all off

When you turned it on

Artistry is in the act

Not the ink and paper

 

A fine metaphor

To work with gas

Conceit extraordinaire

A poetess to the last

 

Did you grab

A last morbid chuckle?

Or curse the last betrayal?

As you inhaled your cure?

 

Who snuffed the pilot?

 

Father Father

Husband

Father

 

Kind vampires

 

With my Father too

It started in the toe

Jungle rot in Korea

Byproduct of his patriotism

 

He begged the doctors

Not to slice it off

You need a foot

To wear a boot

 

(You know this)

 

Unlike Yours

Who could not beat it

He told me

He willed it away

 

Mind over

Weakness Weakness

Shameful

Weakness

 

So, am I safer than you?

 

Your words are safe

Mine in peril

My words

Lose strength

 

With

 

Each beat Each breath

Each bleed

Each bed

 

But

 

After my show

When I have no meaning

Then I will mean more

Than ever

 

Did you know

By leaving the show?

You would only

Be more here?

 

Did you know

It was all lies?

Lies perpetuated by pearl-shelled

Girls who eat too much sugar

 

Force-fed Cinderella lies

Metabolized

Into cellulite globs

On their fat, matronly bodies

Did you know

They clucked their tongues?

Put white gloves

To fetid mouths

 

To whisper

 

Selfish Selfish

Insane

Selfish

 

***

 

“The Stars”

 

Do you still study the stars?

They wink at you on your island home

You know all their names, like a careful

Father who has too many children

 

And you are their champion

You climb the apex of

White Mountain—the highest place on earth

To be close to them

 

I was your student

We lay on our backs in the moist dark of Hilo

The glow of your moon, your cigarette, your stars

You taught me to them

 

Do you remember when

You murdered me? It was daylight.

You had violet eyes—Only Elizabeth Taylor

Was supposed to have violet eyes

 

Do you remember when

You asked me where I wanted

The knife? “I want it to be gentle,” you said,

“Tell me where.”

 

I pointed, “Right there.”

If I must die, Then let it be by

The hand of a man

With Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes.

 

I remember the pain. And

The last images before letting go

Of the snow on Mauna Kea, And the void

In your violet eyes.

 

Do you still study the stars?