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Karl Meade: doom eager

September 16, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

doom eager *

because one of us

took a spike to the lung

a minivan to the chest

hit the beach with his heart

to say nothing of the one

whose only breath was broken water

because I believe

the hand, the wound, the moon

is how I show you where I fell

through the hole I thought I was

diving for pearls through the green

fuse of ice in my dream of you

because I run naked

through the forest on a moonless night

with a penlight in the hand that broke

my mother’s heart waning at the seed

of light the moon won’t show me

because its dark side calls all of us

because I believe

I’ll find your heart in the east

your marrow in the moon

fever just before the sun rises

I’ll swim for it all day forgetting

how the earth turns east south west

circling all night forgetting

there is no moon

in the new moon

because the only way out

is my hand on your chest

I walk the shore all night

dream back the back of the moon

because the only cure

for the wound

is the wound

 

 

* after Ibsen, Graham, Moore: an Icelandic term for the isolation, restlessness, caughtness an artist experiences when sick with an idea

Filed Under: Issue 103, Poetry, Poetry 103 Tagged With: Karl Meade

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