Raising a glass
to my bloody tongue
Tie my tie around my neck
Stop the slight of hand
This is no parlor trick
No
This is a poem

Just a poem
Macabre maybe
Numb
In its fingers

Maybe just a somber spirit
Resting in a haunted ship
Drown it all
With a glass of wine
And bring the crew the good noose

This is a poem
Let this poem dance in mud
Donate my skin and
Make toothpaste out of my bones

For you all to brush and floss

(This isn’t the end of the poem)

Maybe it’s just
A hot shot
Burning like vodka
Down your throat

If it pleases the court
I know it won’t

But if it pleases the court
Do it.

And do it
Till you fall out of sleep
And your tired eyes
awake
Then put this poem away
And dance on down the stairs

This way to the exit
Thank you for visiting my mind
There is the door.

Time for you to go.

 

Jason Wright is the founder and Editor of Oddball Magazine. His “Jagged Thoughts” column appears weekly.