"I want to kill you/so I can write poetry about you tonight"

[taratemima]

This poem just came out.



Queen of Air and Darkness,
I am not hailing you.

If you are Jezebel,
I am Elijah,
with the tender mercies of ravens
and the nightmares of vineyards
fed by severed heads.

The tender Creator,
singular or plural,
beemed this
through my schoolbooks.

O false Brigid-Morrigan,
you are not as sure as,
not as pure as
you wish to be.

I admit it,
I made you
into the
poet-warrior siren.

And what I saw in you,
I lack.
I don't need it now,
so now I see
fog breaking.

It was the puzzle,
the loud chatter,
the strut,
what was it
that rang so false?

O me the wallflower,
the Venus fly trap on the wall,
I see it all.
The morning after of empty rooms,
the clinging of empty bottles,
the blue noise
of an unwatched TV.

You are nothing when
no one is seeing you.

I see right through you.