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Lucia Ferguson ConquistadorFluorescent goes buzz And I buzz. And I am dry. This mouth gone slack. Eight million words gone and buried, gone to stretching yellow lines, and still I am the exploiter, I am the conqueror, I turn this into a poem If this had legs it would walk so quietly But I can’t make you see slack jaws, empty eyes, hot close smell This smell. They would have smelled it too, antiseptic, piss, perfume, love. They stomp and I stomp. I am the conquistador. I help myself. I cannot help but take and take I am all dry I am all dry all over Is this what it has come down to? They wrote elegies. I have no elegies. The requiem that they all sang (their voices were hoarse but they were sure) Is this the wail? I have not wailed. I have not rent my hair. I have not marked this day. I am not sure. I have only seen an old woman suddenly gone slack jawed |
[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2010 EDITION]
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