if only

in the presence of Judas

my heart’s very own saboteur

I became willingly restrained

with the vaguest recognition

of his presence—

a prisoner, convicted by my own

self fulfilling prophecies

the subliminal questions

seemed to beg themselves

“how might it be….

if I were to martyr myself?

how might it feel….

if he were to crucify me?”

the temptation stirred storms

in tea cups of breast

an unending bewilderment

mingled in my depths

he rendered proximity obsolete

miles mattered not

when we had mouths

that draped themselves

around a language

that we had invented

I could no longer recall

the meaning of patience

all things pertaining to common sense

ceased indefinitely, as if—

reduced to ash

replaced with a wild and unfettered immediacy

metaphysical poetry

a massacre of mathematics

systematic slaughter of ethics

expectations drained of their disbelief

all that remained was strategy

philosophy and chemistry

and I, consciously captive

recognized that he was both

the birth and the death of me

an awakening, an ending

he exists—

and my lungs gasp

their first, and last, breaths

his kiss a revival, an accelerant

moth wings doused in kerosene

lunar lolita’s, chasing the kind of dragons

found in bonfires

while cooing, “daddy, daddy won’t you stay?”

for he, is the undertow

and I, the debris

limbs of birch, errant netting

cherished photographs

swept downstream, contorted

by the unforgiving tides

I thought I had made peace

with all things past tense

I told myself the white flags

were triumphs

but I had ended myself

with tradition

and when he came to be

my memories were made nuisance 

as if sifted through a miner’s pan

flecks of fool’s gold

every love I’d ever known

he persists

bathing me in an inconsolable lust

a low hanging fruit, fermenting

begging to corrupt my blood

leaving me drunk and trembling

like all the times I’d said “if only,

if only it worked this way.”

| a. duncan, 2019 |

 

artwork: ‘Chiaroscuro Crucifix 1700’ by Ramon Martinez


 

Posted by

Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus || Love is rich with both honey and venom

7 thoughts on “if only

  1. Your voice captures the deep felt essence. You create and feel poetry from your heart and your soul.
    That is what ever writer does best and really expresses the truth of it all.

    I cherish this poem very much in my heart and its very emotional sensing by listening to your voice.

    Beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Well obviously if God’s a woman than Jesus was … her daughter? ….. Makes sense. Who needs loaves and fish when you’ve got labia and tits?! LMAO….. (My Catholic grandmother whom I loved so dearly is unspeakably ashamed of me at this moment from beyond the grave. I’m sorry Grammy I will say a Hail Mary tonight)

      Liked by 1 person

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