I’d been on the road for thirty days, with no port in that storm,
Until you offered me an anchor and a smile to keep me warm,
You were all elbows and angles, pale and graceful as a foal,
With a voice like hummingbird wings, but a prizefighter for a soul,
I said, “Stay out of my dreams hero, there’s no tomorrow for you here,
Where sunny days feel like nothing more than darkness painted clear.”
I was a disheveled mess of jangles nerves and caffeine-colored eyes,
“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she told me. “Everybody dies.”
Maybe you should have left me broken, adrift 1,000 miles off shore,
All that time you wasted on me could have saved so many more,
Still you took me by the hand and led me through the midnight rain,
Determined to remind me that life was always worth the pain,
You asked me who it was I meant to be, beneath the fog and rust,
And we walked along that old road until it crumbled into dust,
We were greeted by a gnarled tree that grew lonely on a hill,
With a heart carved in its trunk by lovers once and maybe still,
You said, “This is where the road ends, and disappears into the sea.
There is no answer in this darkness. There’s only you and me.”
When I drove you home that night, you softly kissed me in my car,
Before you walked away you laughed and said, “I see you, there you are.”
As days turned into weeks, we found each other bit by bit,
Sharing our secrets in a way that only silence can permit,
Tracing each line with a finger, you asked me if my scars had alibis,
We spent a sunny day in the park where we named all the butterflies,
And I wanted so badly to be happy, still it felt so out of reach,
You cooked pancakes for dinner, and I got drunk on the beach,
I found some cautionary caveat in the shy light of that moon,
Maybe you dreamed too easy, or maybe I gave up too soon,
I was a wreck, with self-neglect worn as my hollow crown,
I wanted you to love me, yet was terrified I’d let you down,
And I was all alone when that ringing phone shook me half awake,
Your voice fell into a thousand shards before the news could break,
Speeding towards the hospital, and I ran every single light,
Tears stinging both our eyes, I sat and held your hand all night,
With words like wrecking *****, the doctor tore our world apart,
And those machines lulled us to sleep as they sang your beating heart,
Too soon the light inside your eyes faded into a glossy glare,
As the needles fed you poison, I helped you shave off all your hair,
With no appetite for food, we watched our bodies slowly erode,
You told me I should walk away; I had no duty to share your load,
But I could never let you stand alone against catastrophe,
I just took you by the hand and said, “There’s only you and me.”
And as I talked in future tenses to carve out those pretty lies,
I just couldn’t see the forest past the trees around your eyes,
At night I paced the rooftop as stars taught me how to pray,
Maybe I needed to know hope mattered. I just needed you to stay.
But I never felt more helpless, or thought that you looked more like me,
Then when you took me by the hand and said, “Let me die with dignity.”
And I could only sit and watch that second hand waving goodbye,
As every single world I meant to say to you just came out as a sigh,
My heart was torn in half on the day God granted you reprieve,
Losing you was like losing the wind, like forgetting how to breathe,
And they tell me grieving is believing that the end is where we stop,
But maybe it’s one last lingering view taken from the mountain top,
As colors fade and seasons pass, I still remember you in every star,
And smile into the cold night air to say, “I see you, there you are.”

In ragged feet, I rushed across the bridge-
Gleaming periwinkles flourished in the distant fields
Reflecting the cloud-free sky,
Golden sunflowers pitted the hills like pus. In the distance,
Fringed with yellow and red, stood a tent
And within was the warlord, aged now and grizzled,
His parchment skin and toothless smile a rebuke
To his youthful triumphs.
His guards parted. I entered
Into a swirling fog of scent
A floor covered in bright-coloured carpets.
Gesturing, the old man bade I move closer
And, belly swollen by hunger, I slowly advanced.
Touching my forehead with a wrinkled finger
He said: “You are my successor.”

I ate well for months.
I was given my own guards,
My own beautiful tent.
Even though only a boy
I received several lovers.
Those around me always listened
To my words. They obeyed.
Every other day, beneath the pubescent
Glare of the early sun,
I hunted deer and lions, protected
By a hundred archers. Every day
I dined on venison.

The old king rarely left the camp.
Late morning he donned his shimmering,
Armour, reflecting shards of brilliant light,
And for an hour reviewed his warriors
On the nearby heath, soured by winds. He,
A wretched old man wrapped in ermine.
After, as a whim, sending them off to die,
Dribbling from his lips, beneath sunken cheeks
And rheumy eyes, at the end of his creeping
Days. Returning to his tent, swaddled
By remembrances. Impotent in body and mind.

We played cards together once a month
Surrounded by slaves. The candelabras burst
With perfumed radiance: musicians played
Soothing songs on cymbals, drums and flutes.
Girls danced; swinging, pirouetting,
Leaping in the excited manner of newly-born fawns.
The air grew heavy with dust.
The air grew pungent with odour.
Scattered around were dishes of date and melon.

“When I die, twenty years from now,” he began, smiling,
Popping a date into his mouth. “You will be king.
And rule as I ruled. A celebrated warrior and judge.
A killer of thieves, destroyer of cities. When old,
As I now am old, you too will seek a successor-
A ragged, hungry boy born to rule, who one day
Walks into your home.”

The king dipped a date into goat’s milk.
He watched me as an owl watches a mouse,
His moist lips smacking audibly. “But that will
Be many years from now.” He continued.
He smiled again, the smile of a torturer.

Within the year I lead his armies,
Rampaging across the wild, blasted plains
And to the walls of distant cities
Leaving piles of bones. I returned
With wagons full of gold, dragging behind
A thousand slaves. The king meanwhile
Lounged in his garlanded tent eating sweets,
Hoarding his growing wealth, washed and perfumed
By half-naked handmaidens.

After two years I planned his death,
And claimed the kingdom for myself.

When spring came the mountain rain fell, the rivers overflowed,
The sun was a yellow bud,
My armies rested on the hills
Polishing their weapons with dew.
The king had ordered veal that day cooked in spices
From the east. He drank watered wine.
The multitude of slaves sang love songs with pitiful voices.
I stole into his tent at twilight.
He lay asleep on his divan, bloated and belching.
A warbler burbled in the trees,
A jay cackled from bushes by the water’s edge.
I lifted my knife and softly approached
His slumbering form. He opened his eyes and smiled
As I buried it in his chest.

I sit on a throne surrounded by my
Endlessly-victorious regiments, king of a thousand lands, eating
Fruits from India, chewing fragrant leaves from the furthest isles where the sun
Burns forever. I have grown fat.
I have grown old. I look out towards the bridge,
Cracked, worn, covered with vines, vexed by the
Rivers surging tides. I search the horizon
For a ragged boy bringing in his unblemished soul
My death.

429

The Moon is distant from the Sea—
And yet, with Amber Hands—
She leads Him—docile as a Boy—
Along appointed Sands—

He never misses a Degree—
Obedient to Her Eye
He comes just so far—toward the Town—
Just so far—goes away—

Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand—
And mine—the distant Sea—
Obedient to the least command
Thine eye impose on me—

299

Your Riches—taught me—Poverty.
Myself—a Millionaire
In little Wealths, as Girls could boast
Till broad as Buenos Ayre—

You drifted your Dominions—
A Different Peru—
And I esteemed All Poverty
For Life’s Estate with you—

Of Mines, I little know—myself—
But just the names, of Gems—
The Colors of the Commonest—
And scarce of Diadems—

So much, that did I meet the Queen—
Her Glory I should know—
But this, must be a different Wealth—
To miss it—beggars so—

I’m sure ’tis India—all Day—
To those who look on You—
Without a stint—without a blame,
Might I—but be the Jew—

I’m sure it is Golconda—
Beyond my power to deem—
To have a smile for Mine—each Day,
How better, than a Gem!

At least, it solaces to know
That there exists—a Gold—
Altho’ I prove it, just in time
Its distance—to behold—

Its far—far Treasure to surmise—
And estimate the Pearl—
That slipped my simple fingers through—
While just a Girl at School.

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one’s name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

Raspberry pip boy lingered and hung around,
He was sweet, but with a tartness that juiced up your mouth,
He flowered in Spring, and swelled my heart up through Summer,
And I plucked him, and I ate him, and I begged for another,
But as I chewed up, my heart slid down my back,
As I was gulping down raspberries my tooth had cracked,
The raspberry pips had sunk deep and rooted
In between my poor teeth, how I hollered and hooted
"RASPBERRY PIP BOY ISN'T AS SWEET AS YOU THINK,
HE STAYS FAR TOO LONG, I'M STAINED BY HIS INK.
I CAN'T WASH HIM OUT, BELIEVE ME I'VE TRIED,
THAT RASPBERRY PIP BOY HAS JUST RUINED MY LIFE!!"
A former tooth model, my contract was lost,
To that Raspberry Pip Boy, his seeds, and tooth rot.