6/1/2016 Four poems by John Sweetthe brazen bull you are here in this room with the truth or at least one version of it you are not the dead man but this won’t always be the case ask your father step outside into the damp heat of late june a sun almost invisible smudged indifferently into a sky both blinding and colorless consider running away the west coast, maybe, maria’s arms or maybe death by addiction no bills, no children, no poems and i would offer you suggestions but my tongue has been cut out i would offer you hope, but am too afraid of having none left for myself poem of breakable truths so listen – this is the sudden moment of clarity, lights on without warning in a dark room, the smell of your perfume beneath my skin this is electricity, my lips finding yours, my fingers cupping the soft curve of your breasts, and no sorrow and no regrets, and i am breathing hard against your pulse i am swimming silently in your grace can see nothing but beauty when your body is pressed so perfectly against mine the sound the song like a river through your mind and then the sunlight and then the rain only last for an hour or so and then sunlight again, hills wrapped in haze all sounds reduced to the silences that shape them young girl found in the corner of an empty room too late to be saved note is a blank sheet of paper rope is tied to her parents’ fears and to their anger stand where the river runs dry just beneath her feet and count backwards from a thousand sing the song until the words lose all meaning until the sky drains of all color feels like the hopeless end of autumn, even with these waves of heat breaking all around you not for nothing white sky and silence or maybe wind through late summer trees cars on the freeway just across the river the idea of escape which is always with me or the idea of suicide the one who says she hates her life the one who tells me he will bring me down shows me the cross he will nail me to then asks to borrow a hammer slaps my back and laughs until the blood runs down his chin says the halcyon days are truly upon us Bio: john sweet, b 1968, been exploring the idea of writing as catharsis for the better part of 30 years. has also recently begun playing with the concept of truth as an ever-evolving absolute. most recent collection is APPROXIMATE WILDERNESS (2016 Flutter Press).
catherine meara
6/10/2016 05:35:52 pm
Your poems speak to me. I can see your thoughts, feel your words, and taste your need. I'm not much of a poet -- more like flash-fiction, memoir, short-story crap. I believe in people like you, because in doing so, I believe in people like me. Comments are closed.
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