deepundergroundpoetry.com
Reading Joshua Miller's The Mao Game
I look at you, burn
as if I were beautiful,
eat up your world
to suck at my fingers.
I could love you as you are,
aquiline and strange,
screaming mouth seared
by the kiss of the wrong.
Long ago the specterboys left home,
motherless, thirsty comets,
tongues gouging holes
in the hearts of fatherless girls.
In a foreign country,
I stare down at my arms,
squint to see
your track marks
Where sweet-brown junk
eased music through veins
tender-bruised and delicate
as a six-pm sunset.
as if I were beautiful,
eat up your world
to suck at my fingers.
I could love you as you are,
aquiline and strange,
screaming mouth seared
by the kiss of the wrong.
Long ago the specterboys left home,
motherless, thirsty comets,
tongues gouging holes
in the hearts of fatherless girls.
In a foreign country,
I stare down at my arms,
squint to see
your track marks
Where sweet-brown junk
eased music through veins
tender-bruised and delicate
as a six-pm sunset.
Published 24th Dec 2014
| Edited 9th May 2024
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24th Dec 2014 5:24am
24th Dec 2014 6:04pm
Neil Young put it well when he sang "Every junkie's like a setting sun." Sad but somehow beautiful, watching the moon rising like there's no tomorrow. I'm sure this is a top runner in that competition.
