I grab my corpse by her hair and yank

Alphabet Ravine13 Comments

I grab my corpse by her hair and yank
her onto her feet, slam her into a tree,
‘til the bark cuts her back so she’s hanging there
like a cloak thrust atop a wood
coat rack.

With my fist ‘round a knife,
as artless as I
find out that I can manage,
I
shred and tear the corpse to bits,

as though it’s the damage done
that is leading to my panting,

as though my panting is my breathing,
as though
she were not dead, as though
I were not alive.

13 thoughts on “I grab my corpse by her hair and yank”

    • Thanks for the comment! I’m definitely glad you found it interesting, and I’m actually glad you found it disturbing, as it’s describing something very disturbing, and I’m glad the poem captured that well! Haha. But yes… unfortunately disturbing. 🙂

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  4. We lead a life of eating pablum, until we taste the razor, the broken glass, our tongues — ribbons. Your poem is like that. Shatter the rose-colored glasses, shards penetrating our eyes. Wake up! The world is beautifully disturbing.

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    • I might consider nature to be beautifully disturbing: London’s kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, and Darwin’s survival of the fittest seem pretty disturbing. Add in the bizarrely complex human mind — and sheesh, what a mix.
      Thus far I find that your poems kowtow to no one, which is important when it comes to exposing the truth of existence, don’t you think?

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