Wednesday
Apr032019

Crone poem (we're all gonna die)

Lisa Gluskin Stonestreet


 

and how could I have come
more than halfway and not know, I mean

I say it often enough. This is how
we talk tough, out here in the dark wood

where the direct way is lost though hey
it looks pretty clear to me, one-way trip

fire to fire. Even you, asshole,
the one with the big gun

on your shoulder, brandishing your right
to brandish your fear.

How Funny (all the half-lifes
say ha ha) because otherwise—

Fire makes me grandiose.
Like this. Did Cassandra

get these lines, arrowed down
between her brows? Well

of course, honey, of course. And did
her fury burn her thin, gall-

bladder out? Burn men
to ash? Which myth was that?

Who am I kidding. I am merely
an apprentice, still a girl

touching a stolen battery
to her tongue.

Please. Flood me
with fire, show me light

beyond this one
sharp spark. Let me burn

on this pyre. May we all
burn.