ABANDON ALL HOPE

YE WHO ENTER HERE –––

my name was Salmon, like

the fish; first name, Susie.

I was fourteen when I was

raped and bled for diffidence,

bad grammar, sadder cliché.

Or was it Dylan Thomas

Aquinas, il miglior fabbro? 

My life was like candida,

a Bible of Dreams: I sent

postcards from the edge

for services rendered

(ce grand malheur, de ne pouvoir être seul).

I suppose at one time I

might have had any

number of stories to tell,

but now there is no other:

the deep and dank tarn

at my feet closed sullenly

and silently over the frag-

ments of the ‘HOUSE OF

USHER’; the morass

bulged and aborted; death

scratched his anus; my blacks

crackled and dragged.