Flamingo
The body electric; it moves about
On fire from a heart that has exploded.
Suspicion of me; eyes on me. I didn’t do it!
I merely sat idly by while they killed themselves
With drink.
I have a drink, and perhaps I shall
Have another, and the humanity of
The world will reflect in my glassy,
Blood-shot eyes.
I had a last hope but I gave it up,
And I am in pieces on the floor like
A mismatched puzzle; you can’t put
Me back together because none of
My pieces fit.
Whore, you dirty, exhausted mess; you are
Me in the mirror. That’s me, right? In this
Skin suit? In this foreign body?
The air is poisoned, and I can’t recognize
Anyone anymore. God has sent us plague
And fear of touch.
Diamond eyes, blue as the salt sea linger upon
My swollen flesh. Whose eyes? Lo! They
Are mine. They have always been mine!
I haven’t cried for you in a decade, but here
I am wearing your topaz ring,
And I can barely feel it there.
I am no prophet, yet I predict that I shall fail
At any sort of love other than yours.
I’m brave now because I took a pill, crushed
It between my fingertips and allowed the
Powder to travel through the cavity of which
My very breath emits.
My pupils are like the tips of a ballpoint pen,
My brain is swimming in luscious grandeur,
And it overwhelms me in a fantastic way.
Which one is the real me out of these
Two personas? Dry or full of the nectar
I’ve just consumed?
Whichever it is I am tired of me.
Scars, scars everywhere; so jagged
And never subjected to the fading
That stitches would’ve provided them.
I taped myself up like a doll that had
Been torn apart. I feared to remove the
Tape, lest I look upon the gaping wounds
And white muscle beneath.
Do not fear me. Beware.
Copyright © Catelyn Meeker | Year Posted 2020
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