Pin It
I hope I die in the rain so my blood
will wash into soil. And, God, I hope
you are not real, that sleep can not be
unnerved by harps or pitchforks. I doubt

feathered angels into the most perverted
fantasies. Their doll parts melt against
forked tongues. Sometimes I hurt in painless
places. Clouds appear as halos of scorn.

I look for you through windows, in moving
crowds. My eyes become needles and sew
the impossible onto this. This. I hope
I rot in sunlight, that civilizations

of multiple-legged kings earn history
under my ribs. I hope red worms eat
my eyes, wriggle through my last dream. I hope
they remember why breathing feels so good.

Speaking of...

  • I hope I die in the rain so my blood will wash into soil.


Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

Readers also liked…

Hudson Valley Events

submit event
Iyoya Children’s Art Show @ Palmer Gallery

Iyoya Children’s Art Show

March 26-31 — There are more than 200 artworks in the showcase, all by Hudson...
New Installation: Walter De Maria @ Dia:Beacon

New Installation: Walter De Maria

Mondays, Fridays-Sundays. Continues through March 31 — This exhibition—drawn primarily from Dia’s collection—presents small-scale objects by Walter De Maria...

View all of today's events

Latest in Poetry

Hudson Valley Tweets