They Always Come

1 May 2015

When they have taken away
the childish laughter and dog-eared books,
peeled off the last much embrace,
given the girl
her lipsticks, hair rinses and pills

When they have poured back the drinks
as long as empty deserts,
returned the spurs to the one-night stands,
taken off the overcoat,
and riddled her bed with song

They’ll find
a mirror smothered in lips
a vacant room with stale cigar ash,
an unpaid bill for a Turkish masseur,
a woman’s glove by a handsome typewritter

They’ll see
charleston dresses of the mind
with their fringes running like blood,
a list of men’s names
from childhood to eternity,
they’ll dig the very fluff from the floorboards,
examine the stains on the manuscripts

Which drug did she take?
Which pain did she prefer?
What does the lady offer
behind the words, behind the words?
The criteria will be:
so long as she’s dead we may
sabotage and rape

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