Poem #5

Last Love II

“[A]nd all I gave to you is lost and all you took from me is lost…”
from “The Aeroplane Flies High (Turns Left, Looks Right)”, by The Smashing Pumpkins

A squire, your squire, stood outside by a tree;
dressed in black, a skeleton, of your troubadour, waits for thee;
lightning bolts strike him every hour;
now, he’s the weathervane of your shower–

So, heart, would you have my brain ripped out?
On a dining room table, we examine it like kraut.
You take a knife and fork, and you eat.
The shit you shit, of my intent, is no feat.

Wishing that I could have seen,
all the wishes, that had been
made by your body, when in bed,
to see the future where they led,

why did you put them in my head?
The need I bled, the need I bled,
to have the reasons in my head.
And from its perch this mourning dove has fled.


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