The question I long to ask you
spills over my tongue
hits my teeth
And I swallow it down like Cuervo and lime
How long can I stand to savor
this salt encrusted parody of life?
To have these questions burn my throat
all the way to my toes
and back again
Just this one time I would like to be brave
to spit out this masticated obsession
purge my soul
empty as an Easter morning tomb
regain my purity
and never be sated
For the question is my poison
Cleopatra's asp and Shakespearean hemlock
But instead I binge on self doubt
and continue to let the questions
(which my heart has already answered)
kill me by degrees
I think this is a strong poem, too. You convey the strong emotions well through the images.
Dear Gainor, it is not fair to write a poem this good! Are you trying to make me throw away my pens and notebooks?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Most excellent. I love your relationship of how one baptizes the soul, Cuervo to the 'empty easter Moring tomb'. I get this, may have just gone thru this phase.