aayoungcommit these words
to memory
when the devil comes for you
and believe me
he will come for you
he will not be cloven hoofed
horned scaly
red fleshed fork tongued
with a pointed tail
he will appear on a sunny morning
as the answer
to your prayers
speaking words
you’ve been waiting to hear
all your life
with a loving manner about him
possessing
in his manicured hands
a perfectly packed picnic basket
a bottle of wine
a box of jewels
and two plane tickets
to Antigua
for a friend in need
on forgiveness sunday
.
excuse the deeds
but never forget
a devil hanging crooked paintings
in the details
.
serving a gathering
at the supper table
cyanide bread
&
antifreeze
dripped quietly
into the wine vessel
it was lying in wait
behind the locked bottom drawer
in my antique roll top desk
how many years it has hidden i’m unsure
waiting for a thorough spring cleaning
al green was behind me singing
let’s stay together
during the scene
a picture of us
standing on a yellow bridge
in pittsburgh
you
white panama wearing
green eyes staring
straight into the camera content
smiling
showing no teeth
never the teeth
it would reveal too much
me leaning into you
head beneath your chin
my delicate chiffon
safely held in your arms
gazing into blue river waters
that had not yet forgotten the sea
as though you were my savior
and i
your long suffering mary magdalene
so trusting
bad pimp and unwilling prostitute
the only thing you have in common with god
is that you aren’t real
i held that fucking picture in my hand
saying aloud to my photographed self
you should have jumped
what are we guilty of, my friend?
of wanting someone to live our lives with
in exquisite happiness
yet during the quest
we fell prey
to a cunning devil with two heads
false god
who idolizes cult leaders
and genocide-eyed maniacs
loving everything to its
well choreographed death
such a fine male specimen
with
puffed up chest
colorful feathers and phrases
the lure of a nest
but by the time he’s done with us
we all look just like his mother
in her funeral dress
and he
a fool hung from a tarot card
painstakingly oblivious
a perpetual hapless victim
his lies make the knowing angels gag in heaven
as minions of the compromised willing
knit him bullet proof vests
so
we are left
alive
why
stronger than the low hanging fruit
in whose flesh
he’d left his teeth behind
embedded in the past
too intelligent and strong willed to succumb
to his blues man dirge
my best guess
yet i am left with the concrete knowledge
that you are a gift
you and your friendship
are beautiful things
that came
from a blackened this
perhaps the age of our sons made us fight harder
against the rope lashed about our wrists
i don’t care who else believes it
we have another day of life to show for it
and this shared survival
sitting between us
let’s have a shot of whiskey on it
and leave
irreverently joined
glass rings
for others to find
when they open the trunk
and realize
two women survived
a doomed ship
stowed away
together in the mess
then came that moment
sitting across the diner table
as the butter knife entered
intercostal muscles
anchoring your feminine ribs
when the last thread
holding your white summer dress
together
gave way
the room and your lungs fell silent
and you
knew
you just fucking knew
to your bloody shoes
that you would be the next woman
whose character would be assassinated
body chewed by snaggled tooth
bones licked clean
gone through
entrails strung across
a pennsylvania turnpike
and he would soon be
full mouthed
reliving the kill
while eating a pink fleshed
corned beef sandwich
talking of you
using words as a means of sacrilege
to the next gullible victim
while explaining he’s never physically
hurt a woman
and you shouldn’t
make him break
his streak
over you
go ahead
cut off your pipe
and have a black hole installed inside
your entire life and being
everything you write
everything you say
everything you project
is a lie
why shouldn’t your wardrobe
comply
we see what you truly are
we have eyes
you know what’s funny is
even as you were burying
your pen knife in my back
the good woman inside me
the part given to me by my grandmother
was trying to save you from his bloody sword
you can never say you weren’t told
and i am thankful to be reminded
how beautifully brutal life is
when we become our own agents
of instant karma
there is nothing left of your face
i guess some women just can’t get enough
of self-mutilation
i remember sitting
in your provisionally furnished
unliving room
piled high with alphabetized stacks
of your personal and professional failures
balanced atop a neurotic collection
of pizza boxes
and coffee cans welded
into homemade torture devices
watching you waller bare assed
on your unfortunate chair
sipping coffee smoking pot
planning on bourbon
complaining no one takes your abuse
in a manner that suits your liking
i found myself wishing to be in a place
with anyone but you
to be anywhere but there
shaking out a rug
airing a mattress
applying pine sol to the length of route 80
to cleanse the earth
of your doomsday pestilence
knowing myself to be a fool
for buying into your bottom shelf poems
and cock strong swagger
my feet swiftly found an escape tunnel
but i kept a picture of you
in your dirtiest jeans
exposing your minimalist views
on having teeth
then drove into the city
had it blown up parade balloon size
and hung it up like scarecrow
a warning to all women
over the cosmetics counter at macy’s
it was a late september afternoon
the northeastern seaboard air
held hostage
by a murderous storm
all that was required of me that day
was to exist happily at home
however extra time and a heart full of love
had allowed me
to take him grateful sandwiches at work
upon returning to our nest
i decided to watch a movie
to occupy my longing
for the sound of his blackened boots
climbing the stairs
we used his laptop to watch streaming films
hooked to a 174 inch flat screen tv
by a silver and gold hdmi cable
that’s when it happened
i clicked on the favorites list to pull up the movie website and there they were
his trunk of costumes and masks
a pile of social network aliases
he had been assuming
i realized he was no less than five people in my world…and everyone else’s
interacting on an eerily regular basis
profiles ranging from a black female poet
angst ridden housewives
hell, even a businessman from Taiwan
my body was crushed to my place on the floor by the enormity of the deception
the stench of oily manipulation filled the room
i left the laptop open to die uncharged
where it sat atop a book of van gogh’s work
still sitting cross legged and stunned
hours later
when he arrived back
horror slashing his face
the legion within him screamed
“Did you look into my computer?!”
the automaton of self preservation raised her head with a dissimulating smile and answered
“I watched The Mirror Has Two Faces, baby. Are you hungry?”
he retracted his fangs and leathery wings
a demon deciding we should have pasta fagiole
i packed my bags the next morning
leaving behind no explanatory note
just a few hairs in the drain and my hopes of making a life with him
she lacks a mirror
to survey
what is left of her face
so she passes the time
painting pictures of grotesque animals
with human genitals