The Other One

Death numbs and disorganizes me
But the other is a motherfucker no matter how you look at it

Death can be kind and writes poetry
With his long white fingers
He says, “I must take her to the parlor.” He is polite
While the other eats blood in gobs, mouthfuls of tissues disintegrates and erodes sucks and belches burps and laughs with a mouth like a fat fish

Death took my mother for a walk in the garden
She wore pink cotton pajamas and held his arm
There were lanterns made of rice paper
The tress were hung with cow bells
Somewhere someone was singing

The other one lay curled in my mother’s belly trying to make her his puppet
She refused
Bargained cordially with Death
Who bowed his head and nodded
Then walked off whistling softly
the winner with a petal in his tailcoat pocket


  • RaiMidori Saturday, 24 September 2011

    This. You always amaze me and I love this.

    This. You always amaze me and I love this.

  • Maria-Thérèse ~ Sunday, 18 September 2011

    Thank you x

    Thank you x

  • Exitonpch Sunday, 18 September 2011

    Smudge I no longer know how to write her bones ha...

    SmudgeI no longer knowhow to writeher bones have come to lieinside medry as the leaves she pillowedcrumbly as the cake she usedto favor.It’s her voiceno soundnot even lipsjust a bloban empty spot between ribsa faint film of dirtas on a dirty car mirrorwhich like all glassyou look at into the pastVision is funnyit’s always the past we seeten nanoseconds agoyou were right hereI saw you with my own jelly eyeten years thirtyyou were fleshyou were breathyou were morethan a smudge of memory

  • francescalia Sunday, 18 September 2011 I am sorry for your loss Lo... am sorry for your loss Love flb

  • Maria-Thérèse ~ Sunday, 18 September 2011

    "Death numbs and disorganizes me" A fri...

    "Death numbs and disorganizes me" A friend of mine died a few days ago; I heard about it just before I went out at night - and still went out - I somehow still can't believe she died. Something else may have happened to her, but she can't be dead. Blogging about her and blogging about my huge ballet poster which has just been posted on walls - the living and the dead, all the things I can do and she's gone and it's over.

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