I feel like
I am a comic book
my life unfolding
drawing by drawing
at first in colour
(then only in black & white)
waiting for what
the next panel
will unfold
or the turning of the...
...page!
“What will the artist think
- next? ”
a speech bubble
thinks for me
beside my head.
I feel like
I am Osiris
& have been
(by my brother Seth)
cut up
& my bits
scattered all
over Egypt.
“Whatever next? ”
a speech bubble bubbles up
next to my throbbing temple
a towering obelisk
of a migraine.
You gather me
with your love
bring me
to my self again
anoint me
with your caresses
join my lips
to your lips
in a holy
kiss
until I am
whole
until I am
the glory of
Osirus
You...my Isis!
But wait
hasn’t a fish
eaten my d**k
(hard to swallow…that)
& you
can’t get it back!
Can’t the artist
ditch that bit
...surely?
I wish he wouldn’t
follow the story
...so closely!
So much
for being
legend!
But all
is not
lost!
You have thought of
everything!
You click on:
f” on
your new
Soho vibrator
“built
(so it says)
“ to fit the natural contours
of a lady! ”
And then
a little panel saying
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK...
Damn! I wish I
Could find out
Who’s drawing my life!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem