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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4057 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Bang Bang Bang Laurel K. Dodge (For Laurie, who grew tired of it) Tired of the normal blood- letting, the hidden slits, the soul- venting—how it roars, how it whispers out with the slightest touch, the cut, the pressuring of an edge that’s always keen, always willing, always ready— numb, at last, alas, to the white-hot pricking of a cigarette, the ember’s sweet kiss bussing the tender flesh behind the knee where no one will ever see the polka-dotting scabs, the red slashes---points of attempted exit/entry, where you never forgive yourself-- what’s left except to bang bang bang the fish on its head with a ball peen hammer until the scales lose their luster, the finger-pointing eye is blunted, and the awful flip-flopping, that inexorable turning over of a reluctant body, flooded with the temporary bliss of endorphins that kill the pain you thought you wanted stops. |
