Amusing myself:
an art, like everything else.
Ash, ash —
falling on me –
beware the big striptease,
the Nazi lampshade,
cake of soap,
the cat who takes nine times to die.
Do I terrify?
Does it feel like hell in here?
Or, worse than that, real?
Whatever – I do it exceptionally well.
And I’ve done again.
This long time dying.
Breathing air.
(The first time it happened
I really did surprise myself)
So what’s it to be?
A word or a touch?
No charge.
I’ll even throw in the beating of my heart.
The glint of a gold filling.
Where’s the scare in that?
The great concern?
Give me a call.
I’m not God. But not Lucifer either.
I’m something in between.
A man of leisure.
I might even be dead.