See
there is a river running through him
stuffed with pictures like a reel of film
unwinding
he seems to have miles of death in him
he flows so easily
and all medallion victories disappear
our knife locates no conscience
no crucifix god leaps angrily out
waving a battleflag
nothing comes out but bourbonblood
he never really had a name flesh
or a pound of love in his liver
empty him of his nothingness
see
his muscles quiver at our prodding
and we explore his red wet kingdom
finding no feeding inner man
for all is waste all is swamp
his fingers stiffen on parade
and blue veins whiten
like attentive West Point cadets
see
his head falls back open valise
his adam never had an apple
and his skull spills white lard of armies
marching into sewers of limbo
a flick of blade
his eye squeaks of a burning city
like a fading TV tube
and all memory banks enter bankruptcy
see
he was a plunderer educated to plunder
death was a constant cousin to him
who knows
maybe we are twins dying of the same sickness
who knows
perhaps we may not be able to survive him?
