Skin
And lo and behold after the succubus left there was only skin.
It was the time of the rapture and today I saw her once again, watching
me
from the inside of an office building window. Just standing there with
a big
fat demon gloating over her with his black greasy hair, dancing and laughing
over his good fortune. "Ha Ha Ha A fine piece of ass!" He says
and then
disappears back into the shadows to play his horrible music. Foul and
detestable
even to all other demons and bad musicians. And my friends these days
are visiting.
They bring me good tidings & warnings even though they are long dead
and
without all of the Jacob Marley guilt trips. For I choose my own final
destination,
they have said. And yet small children have begun to appear again more
and
more each day upon the earth, and my soul which once beat with my heart
in
my breast has faded and has slowed itself down to almost a halt.
That place where the words of critics don't matter and only the sound
of
the true poet's voice remains; the living, dying and breathing skin.
Author Biography
R.M. Engelhardt currently lives & breathes in Albany, NY where he
is the host of "The School of Night" open mic at Valentine's
in Albany on the last Tuesday of each month. His work has been published
in such journals as www.poetrypoetry.com, nycpoetry.com, Industrial Nation,
Metroland, Verve, Sure;the Charles Bukowski Newsletter #10 and many others.
He is also the director of www.AlbanyPoets.Org.
