oh, o recognise this
this is an old acquaintance with
with whom i’d lost touch
i remember her face
i remember the scent and line of her neck
i remember
the smoke upon the air
the smoke upon the air
the smoke upon my skin
the smoke about my eyes
the cauterizing
the shattered-glass breathing
the every breath a broken bottle
the every breath a bar-fight
the every breath a cat-fight
did i not wonder at another
i would fear not the passing of the pain
i would not worry at its going away
“
teach me to have fear in the appropriate places
“
did i not wonder at another
i would not hoard every lobe of its memory
every infuse of its ink
the seeds of knowledge were screws into bone
and sprouted McGuffey readers of pain
those readers of pain, novice, acolyte
fondle the scars
for them there is much to learn
there are rivers without bottom
pain that leaves by the front door
to which one waves goodbye
like a friend of no phone calls
like a meal of flavor forgotten
such that one calls for it
one calls out for pain
one invokes the gods therein
implores the re-granting
“
show me again the colors of its clouds,
bless me the warmth of its breath
“
one asks for a close friend
that saves the catch of breath that says:
“
i know you
i see you
i am you
i will be not you
…
come to me
“
that i might look in your face once again,
that i might smell your breath
that you might remind me of that which i must know
that you might whisper in my ear, tell me you are no stranger
that we know each other
only your breath
will stem the rising child of panic
will tap it on the top of its head
say:
“
it is ok
stay.
right.
there.
for
we have
business to conduct
we have
hymns to sing
candles to light
rosaries to pray
coup to count
“
now i know why arrives the pain
i know why the the visit
the knock on the door at the end of the day
the knock on the head like a knock at the door
come ringing round the rosie this friend
with hands full of posie
with hands full of posie
this friend with flowers behind her back
said,
“
follow me i know a way
i can take you there
i can walk you from this
i can walk you this tunnel
but what i teach you must hold
in trust
in truth
for years decades generations and continents of time
you must hold it
until you forget me
until you’ve never met me
until you’ve forgotten
far mist
far fog
dark skies
long long long forgotten nights pure
where you’ve forgotten me
where you’ve lost any sight of me
where when you do see me again
you will think:
‘
oh, i’ve seen her before
i dont know where i’ve seen her
‘
and you will travel last rites
of forgottens and nears
of sleepless and sleepful nights
the cramps from spine to tears
you will wander all those corridors
to remember me
to realize that
i am your friend
i am not your enemy
i am the friend come to you
dressed as the enemy
whom you recognize
when false friends
steal your clothes
and arrive at the party
in crimson and pearls
with
‘A-ha!’
will you say
‘
oh i remember
you
you showed me a painting one day
‘
oh i remember
you
you showed me a painting one day
‘