“It’s in the heart of the grape
where that smile lies.
It’s in the good-bye-bow in the hair
where that smile lies, For which remember in those lanes
It’s in the clerical collar of the shirt grey and black
where that anger lies, I remember in those capital lanes
That smile took my seventh life if I had,
caught here in the painted photograph, I am just left with that
It’s peeling now, age has got it,
a kind of cancer of the background
It’s like a rotten flag,
pocked with mold”
MERCY
who am I?
I open as a vein
and my blood rings like roller skates.
I open the mouth
and my teeth are an angry army.
I open the eyes
and they got sick like wolves
with what they have seen.
I open the hair
and it falls apart like dust balls.
I open the dress
and I see a child bent on to gallows.
I crouch there, sitting dumbly
pushing the blood out like water,
letting the whole brown world
turn into sweets.
who are you?
Mercy Questioned
I am aging without sound, into darkness, darkness.
Merely a kid keeping alive with your name.
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