I've got this backwards
by Charles Demers
I’ve got this backwards
by Charles Demers
Should I, only half-orphaned, want
them shaken? No
curse-full mouth is mine
by now
all curses spat out and sputtering
shot rocket-like on Davidic trajectories
but finding no foreheads
(David didn’t really sing it)
and coming instead
to rest
troubled and miserable
in the land.
(Did he?)
At what point
does the smoke-choked coughing
set off by the flames on their hills
become a fire of my own?
Picture now the dime in a picture
that isn’t really the size of a dime
but tells you how big something even smaller is.
Now imagine that dime on its own
trying to imagine for itself
how big it is,
And what it’s worth
If I should call you up, [da-dum da-dum] would you say I belong to you?
Or should I be concerned
that my enemies/
wicked
haven’t perished yet?
Like when the comedian, who isn’t very good,
says that if you don’t know anyone
like the person he’s talking about
it’s you
(Is this our perishing?
To be perfectly honest
if it is
I thought it would be faster)
Merton said that
we don’t love the psalms because they’re old but
because they are young
So it should be okay
to count them down and anyway
they went right to left
to begin with
Funny thing:
The higher private rockets go,
the lower below angels
they land
And now it’s like we’re right back
at a 10 out of 8/9/10
Even(,) still
There’s one more irony;
(and this one’s in our favour — )
We only notice this stuff
Because we were made for better
