October 23, 2011The Clinic
They come smelling
like the inside of an ear
like government curtains
like a flagpole in the dead
of winter
with one leg
with cancer
with court orders
with lies
they come like the dead
the undead
like shells washed up
bottles without messages
They come hooked
naked as starfish
stinking
needing
food and shelter
money and clothing
they come
and come
like blood from a wrist
into my office
notarized and wasted
pouring their tears
Into my mouth
goes the vinegar of the damned
goes the pale horse leaping
liberty’s blue tongue
sorrow upon
sorrow
in the child’s dead eye
the red tape worm
wiggles
and slips into
the stars.
from #26 - Winter 2006