Tags: piece_of_work

bunny word

What a piece of work is man.

Sorry I haven't posted the past two weeks. The first, I wrote something but then forgot about it, the second I was busy, end of term essays and all that fun stuff. Just realized that I've posted here a couple times now, without anyone knowing anything about me. That seems kind of weird to me, so I'll just say real quick that I'm Canadian, an aspiring author (to sound horribly pretentious about it), and a first-year university student with a reputation for being a grammar-nazi. Without further ado:

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Miss Smoking

What a piece of work is man.


To sleep; I dream awake
eyes flutter for sunlight,
against a shadow I break:

boxing another lost fight
with each passing word
swords, tongues rich in spite.

Venomous God, my lord,
I suck the sleepy poison
from the wound she adored;

now to tip the bottle, lessen
the pain, dull the ache
not knowing the pidgin

in which we speak of late,
I confuse her utterly wanting
one more moment to wait —

she’s gone. I went walking
to discover one more shadow
misplaced in the night weeping.

Each footfall heavier I forgo
rest, my diplopic eyes creating
Niobe, the wailing widow,

Weeping into her cup filling
it with salt water, not hoping.