Ghosts of All Hallows
This night puts two specters
always beside me: the
white wavering hand
of an ectoplasmic man
reaching up its rebirth
from the past's still riverreaching up its rebirth
and the red-trimmed ghost flint
of knife sharp December.
of knife sharp December.
First one will cut me
then the other dismember,
making their wailing
making their wailing
promises for breaking, insisting
to midnight how real, how strong
to midnight how real, how strong
how mine their congealing,
my self-propelled hex-helix
to annex the fetch of a feeling
or the sterile slipping steel
to annex the fetch of a feeling
or the sterile slipping steel
of each coward surrender.
Oh it may; still it's time
to switch off the sound,
kill the moon,
cut to black this double feature
so both erase except for what
is left behind them in the mirror---
no lie is ever dearer
than the one you tell yourself.
How I remember--you didn't mind the knife
if it was in your hand.
I didn't mind the blood
so long as it was mine;
now it shines, the pale smile of the drowned
now it shines, the pale smile of the drowned
as if murder makes a healer not a butcher.
to switch off the sound,
kill the moon,
cut to black this double feature
so both erase except for what
is left behind them in the mirror---
no lie is ever dearer
than the one you tell yourself.
~October 2014
Three Hands, Two With Knives, Study, 1884,Vincent Van Gogh
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