but / they will not / give her back to me

[zarahemla]

[insert adjective] Valentine's Day. Here's a love poem, Bukowski style.

eulogy to a hell of a dame
by Charles Bukowski

some dogs who sleep at night
must dream of bones
and I remember your bones
in flesh
and best
in that dark green dress
and those high-heeled bright
black shoes,
you always cursed when you
drank,
your hair coming down you
wanted to explode out of
what was holding you:
rotten memories of a
rotten
past, and
you finally got
out
by dying,
leaving me with the
rotten
present;
you've been dead
28 years
yet I remember you
better than any of
the rest;
you were the only one
who understood
the futility of the
arrangement of
life;
all the others were only
displeased with
trivial arrangements,
carped
nonsensically about
nonsense;
Jane, you were
killed by
knowing too much.
here's a drink
to your bones
that
this dog
still
dreams about.

Comments

[tigerlilyaj.livejournal.com]

You always post compelling works. You should be the editor of an anthology.

[zarahemla.livejournal.com]

Why thanks! If I had a lot of money to kill, I would probably do it, too.

[misslucyjane]

Happy Valentine's Day!

[zarahemla.livejournal.com]

Aw, thanks! Right back at you, sexy bitch.