Thursday, September 10, 2009
The Battle That Killed My Son
A semblance of jurisprudent influx
informed the caricatures, carried on
a lamentable carnivore in us all.
The first time death arrived on our shore
care of the marinated camouflage,
I was not here. Not there either but
always unbattered, uncoaxed,
disenfranchised by severities
and---often---carousing alone, bodily bare.
Not that I declared myself saintly,
am not sacrosanctly benign in my palate,
no! But I was far an adjunct to you,
far adroit in fearsome flattery
and, often, a joy to the mere super-sundry.
Whereas the journalists are arguably true
within bounds and rounds of beer,
I'd be watching TV only, absent
with absinthe, abetting my crankiness
on the devil who inhabited my blue sea.
Seven days a week I've watched you
and taunted you and fainted with you 'til
the daylights conquered my insanity.
Then, lo and behold!---the draft cool,
my craftiness no arbiter to my drool,
I'm now here! Am mumbling! And screaming!