SOMEONE’S BEEN SPIKING MY TEARS
Someone’s been spiking my tears with fire.
Someone’s been shading the truth
like a sin of omission
in the negative space of a liar.
Yesterday I was on my knees
begging for mercy from myself
in front of a thousand Virgin Marys
all strung out on their rosaries
like the skulls of the lovers they used to be
before they bubbled their brains down
like rocks they brought back to earth
after their long spacewalk
to get high on the silver
in the ore of the moon
that keeps changing them like faces
no one can recognize
as the calendar they once knew
before an interrogation room ran their afterlife
like a mugshot through the keyhole of a clueless afternoon.
And I am so sorry I wasn’t there to care.
But I ran out of highways on the way back
to the doors I never passed through
because you were you
and you never let anything out
that wasn’t either a talk-show or an issue
I could ever do anything to resolve
because the point was
to go on suffering like a celebrity
no one had ever heard about
with problems no one could solve
who wasn’t you.
You were in the passing lane of evolution
and I was always a revolution too late
to overturn the head of state
for a kinder kind of emergency
without all the hysterical urgency
of a fire that couldn’t be put out
unless you were crying like a fire hydrant
about all the snakes in your hair
with minds of their own
that turned you to stone
everytime you looked in the mirror.
Fear of anything has never been
the beginning of wisdom
and little queen
and you were no exception
in your bulletproof limousine.
The elastic years may have snapped back on me
like a hairpin turn in time
and my donkey-cart of a heart
plunged into the abyss again
as it always did in my vain attempts
not to lose my footing at the top
of your cosmic view
of how far I had to fall
before I was demonic enough to love you.
Things may have changed,
stars gone out
grief grown bitter
in a one room urn
trying to identify its own ashes
and the questions we both asked
that used to bunt their heads like baby birds
on the ancient rocks below
grown feathers enough to fly away
or softer ways to knock
without demanding an answer
you didn’t have to live your way through
like a corpse on the pyre
of everything you ever knew.
I sighed for you.
I cried for you.
I died for you
many more nights than I ever
sat down alone with myself
and crossed off all my full moons
like so many corner shots
eight-balled in the pocket
as I watched you sink the table like Atlantis.
Now I forget how many years it’s been
since I was finally convinced
there was nothing I could ever do or be
that wouldn’t somehow shadow your shining
and in a timeless moment at the airport
that winter night I said good-bye
and took off with ice on my wings
death went on forever without a destination.
But I still remember
how cool I thought I was
before your creative intensities
went off like a destructive universe
in my boundless mystic immensities
and things heated up for the worse.
I’m more spaced out now than I ever was
but the funny part is
it’s not so cold anymore
and things are beginning to feel
a lot more like home
and the darkness is sweeter and deeper
than I can ever remember it being
and there’s a place I’ve discovered within myself
where parallel lines do meet
and I lie down there with you often
without the sword between us
and say those things I would have meant
if things had been different.