Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Poem - "Betrayal Is The Worst Thing"

I wrote a poem about my pain, sort of a cross between the true-to-life style of Charles Bukowski combined with that part of T.S. Eliot's epic poem, "The Waste Land" where he writes that "April is the cruelest month".

"Betrayal Is The Worst Thing"

I had a boyfriend once who said
that if I cheated on him,
he'd kill us both - me and my lover.
I didn't understand, at first,
but now I think I do,
because
betrayal is the worst thing.

He's dead now. I didn't kill him,
but the cancer did.
I thought he was pretty bad, at the time,
but comparatively,
he was an amateur at the arts of breaking people.

The real Betrayer came to me
with smiles and warmth,
and betrayed me with a kiss -
my very own Judas Iscariot

So I went to the cathedral in downtown
where a figure of Jesus hung from the cross
"You cannot fix this world," he said to me.
"No one can."
I left and pondered that for a while.

At least I came through everything alive -
even with the nightmares and whatnot.

My Betrayer came to plunder and destroy.
I didn't think he had a plan, but now I do -
marriage in secret, make me pregnant,
and then the most important part -
the self-taken pennyroyal -
"a natural abortifacent" that "grew wild in his parents' yard"
Deadly poison. He always left that part out.
He would have won the game, taken my house, my life, my future.

Now I am alive but haunted, walking through the dust and the shadows.

Of all the evils in the world to sit there and endure,
betrayal is the worst thing.

No comments:

Post a Comment