I twist in the wind
Like some unhinged barber pole
Red stripes overlapping
I have been whipped
Those are not stars
They are five pointed scars
Too numerous to count
My pride was annexed years ago
The fifty first state of insanity
Borders blurred
Strop that razor
I lean back
Offer my neck
When there is time
I will sit you down
Tell you all about it
What you will hear
Is not sweet perfume
It is acid
Caustic
I’ve used it to remove the faces of memories
But there are still traces of noses
Ears
And years
Days strung together by razor wire
Weeks set biting on fishhooks
Months of nooses
And if you care anything about me
You will kick the chair
From beneath my feet
Bionote
Ira Melnick is a poet from Vermont. He has created a large body of work
over several years, encompassing a broad spectrum of subject matter.
Being unassuming in nature, it has taken some urging and coaxing for him
to go public, where he is now receiving very favorable reviews. iramelnick@comcast.net
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