J. James Martinez

Death My Pen Has Become

Too heavy is her shadow
Too thick is this meadow
These hills and streets feeling
Archaic and shallow

Too brilliant to be black
I’ve come too far to go back
Yet it’s
Too lavish to get past

Here I am sitting
Seething and truculent
Fed up and focused
That face
I’m stuck with it
Drawn under my lids in ink and lipstick

Now
Come the first and last of
Any given
December
While you sit
Comfortably surrounded by fair weather fanfare
Twiddling their thumbs
And
Twirling their hair

Take a second

Stop

Take a look
I’ll be there
From way over here
Outside behind the trees
Wishing
They were my thorny arms hugging
Holding
Poisoning
Loving the sewn up
Bitten
Spit on and kicked
Sugar sweet and vinegar tart girl
I know you hide
Under the idea of the woman you seem to be

When the time comes
Pick up these pages I’ve spent my time compiling

Cradle my first-born
Given your horns to gorge and destroy
Fame
Written in your name
With my red and tears

Death my pen has become
And you are the next to be written
Lifeless
So
Here…

This is a black and red
And
Salty as the sea scream

I hope it breaks your heart
And
Steals your breath

© J. James Martinez

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 19, 2008

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