Everybody, There's One Symbol - Poem by Delilah Miller
don't you ever worry about me.
Heaven is just a
giant puzzle piece;
all these centuries
and I finally see
love is an electric candle.
Thanks to Neruda,
I'm going to put my poem in a jar or
give it a handle.
I am Lazarus, reborn on notebook paper;
tell the virgin the whore doesn't hate her.
Let there be God, the One,
or I'm someone's One?
Altars break as easily as people do,
so what is the messenger?
Take away this goddamn gavel!
I listen to Rumi, Faulkner, Whitman,
Jack Kerouac mumbles, never stands
and Allen Ginsberg howls,
while I play Tchaikovsky or Chopin
because the past must go on...
So go tell the whore that the virgin will no longer hate her;
I'll write her names out on the paper.
Do you hear the trumpet?
Or is it Poe's mad bells,
ringing in the cathedral of Hell?
I'm laughing because
there's only one symbol;
it's either on or off.
Don't make her wait
because you won't see her at the pearly gates.
It's only the throat that matters...
Another generation, another pen and sheet of paper.
Everyone is the same person, so I won't hate her...
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