Poetry

AND OUR DEAD ARE LINED UP ALL THE WAY INTO THE FUTURE


I’ve decided to debunk predestination the presumption of god
to waste my life again get drunk on the edge time leaves on things
like I used to always being refugee strangely hidden
streets race away shift into the shadows behind supernatural shivers
leave tomorrow like unshriven ghosts groping for sustenance
a nameless/endless film we’re part of it ranting a little
I was like you once but what’s gone is gone pulled like the mandrake
someone/something else forever decanted out of the flat earth
with too many eyes body/mind/soul screaming
It’s embedded in our DNA all philosophies considered what is old and dark and deep
we wouldn’t/couldn’t see many things of importance stillborn within me
what really happened happened to me first for the last time
I want things as they were but only the young trust bowel and blood and bone
before we let ourselves believe a mythology so mutable can’t
be ransacked absolute truths collapse at the core
the distance between us and the ideal what we go on destroying
I cross every day the mind alone has no name but is
totally unaware we should never murder our innocence

K.V. Skene's work has appeared in Canadian, U.K., U.S., Irish, Australian and Austrian magazines, most recently: Assent, All Rights Reserved, QWERTY, Poetry Cornwall and WEI. Her publications include Love in the (Irrational) Imperfect, 2006, Hidden Brook Press (Canada) and You Can Almost Hear Their Voices, 2010, Indigo Dreams Publications (UK). After living in England (and Ireland) for over eighteen years she has returned to Toronto, Canada.