Poetry

Cheers after Lucille Clifton

Posted by seanbrown2020

Poetry does a terrible job of making us forget
And so
This will not be a poem about
The pedophile who raped my student 
The mental illness that took my mother
Or
The emotionless vacuum that breathed in my father
Raise a glass to this 
The day i started 
Dying
I had a model
Growing up in this no country
A thing to imitate 
I wore him like camouflage 
I am sure i am a man
I made up the rest
Here on this bridge between
“The great seat” and mud
My half soul holding tight 
The other half
Come celebrate with me
That everyday the bleeding 
Swelled against the walls of my garnet flesh
And only occasionally seeped out 

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