Thursday, June 24, 2010

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Poems Martha Wrote
(But Lieutenant Cross Never Read)

Your face did not rot No matter how hard I tried To imagine The flesh Falling Off Revealing the Crimson Blood Stained skull beneath.

Your feet did not drop off No matter how long I made you stand In the snow Shivering Skin turning numb Black with frost bite.

Your hands did not weld together No matter how long I made you beg Squishing your flattened Palms into prayer Forcing you to your knees Pleading with me.

For all the hours You knelt Your knees did not lock Into that humbling position Nor did your lips obtain Third degree burns Despite the thousands of Adoring kisses You Gave Me.

But—Your heart It did not withstand My fierce blows. You grew fonder and fonder Of me Until with one Adulterous Wallop Your heart Froze Paralyzed With the anguish I bestowed

—Until it melted Sinking deep into the crevasses Of Our body Where no light entered And it hardened Into a Lifeless Hunk of Worthless Organ Never to climb back Up to its rightful home.

No—Your face did not rot Your feet did not fall off Your hands did not fuse together Your lips did not suffer burns Nor did your knees lock into a kneel But your heart—It melted And fell Hiding far, far— away

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