You Said: Why Can I Not Have My Day
a cherished paper-cutting
for
those who forgot to care
and for you
too late
a cribbed account
in pale bold face
on some crowded backpage
which lapped up the soya stains on the takeaway counter
some faded picture of you
crammed in nubile twists of fronting elegance
in meagre-columned glossy pages
you said : why can’t i have my day
why should a destitute Greek prince
lord it over the world
just by tying a knot with his regal cousin
your eyes recognising too late
a world you may never see again
a world you may not be seen in again
all your self-suffocating words
and all those poured in contempt
on you
through you
for you
to feed those who grudged your fleeting glory
Now now that all may be forgotten
now that no bile inhabits this carcass
over some too pulpy a fruit
a taste of you
from freshly-turned earth
bloody juicy earth
our teeth caught
clinging to your bleeding shredded flesh
of cells into cells
of us into our selves
© T.Wignesan, Paris, 1987 (from the collection : Poems Omega-Plus : a less than obvious sequence, 2005)
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2012
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