I’ll show you my tattooes if you show me yours
And teach me with what you’ve branded yourself.
Endure my questions on what makes you essential
For of you, my friend, I believe the world.
Let’s you and I put socks on our feet
And gloves on our hands
And launch ourselves away—
Away from the ideals of a nation
Which no longer speaks truth for us.
We will smash the clock face
And rid ourselves of time
For there are more pressing things
Than the minute hand.
Let’s find where this chasm of darkness leads anyways,
I promise I’ll thrust out my hand to you
When you slip against the dark dust
And dangle for a breath over the edge.
This maze into which we enter has no map for us
And for that let’s be grateful—
One less thing to distract us
From our gripping lack of distractions.
Grab that bottle there and I’ll bring a mug
And if you fall and the bottle breaks
We can sit and watch the liquid stain
And feel our blood relate.
Blood.
That’s another thing I’m grateful for.
Let’s dance like our blood is on fire
Because for now it is
And we must keep it so.


 

The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my experience.

 

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