Necromancy
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
You are a soul assembly gadget. You
Bring past’s romances back to life with their
Discrete perfumes of armpit sweat, pass through
Me once again, unnoticed nearly. Hair
Obscuring ears was brushed away by me
So I could lick the finest bristles on
The lobes and now again those hairs I see
In pale parousia. A horse’s brawn
Is not as sleek or smelly as these flecks
Returning to my lungs, and heart, and mind.
I pant to keep them out. I fear their hex.
Like Saul I fear that you will make me blind.
..I lie beside the road, thrown in a ditch.
You bring that thing back in me and I twitch.