In an old bed
my eyelids rest; the breath of Israeli
in my blood, I never thought
I’d have to cross this bridge
and I might see you
your alter ego,
and he dies again;
the Prometheus death fit for humankind,
take it then
take it and see how we are born,
see how we’ll die.
I am a woman now,
last a child when I saw you in the casinos
as the moon fed into the phantasmagoria,
and the sun settles on my ancient father’s bones.
women in their stone
had quiet madness, like me,
I close my eyes.
the smoking glistens
sometimes, I die
I should have known better
I’ll see you again; New England should depress me;
babies grown, remembering
Meerschaum in your mouth
but I loathe the perfume on your skin,
and your voice, most of all; a glorying in the first kill
in which you are born; the winter. I should have known
this would come, why be foolish,
I’ve known this man
hanging his stones,
kick them, kick them, and the moon skims my words
but humankind is not (not man or woman),
fit for the Prometheus death
© 2021 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.
Written for the dVerse prompt 4/27/21: Write a poem about bridges OR write a Puente.
4/29/21: Reposted for the dVerse OLN.
5/3/21: Reposted for PYM Go Dog Go.
5/6/21: Part two to Alter Ego written for the dVerse prompt: The writing challenge is to write a palinode. This can be in relation to a poem you have written before (please link or include prior poem), or as part of a poem.