Pt. 8

So shoosh, be gentle, gentle now
not these vanities,
no, only the pea green sea curling to white crest wave
in a joyful monotony of presence.
Shadows loom, bloom and evaporate.
A shaft of sunlight,
a distant rumble, free of question,
but this no explosion, more a volley,
a punctuation of divinities
exposing the misconduct to better expose the folly.
Golly, and I thought for a moment we'd escaped the battle front.
What a joker.

Kerboom.
Against the wall up against the wall.
Don't shoot. Fuck me.
Don't shoot, no, for fuck's sake just fuck me.

Then see here these showers of lead,
this venomous splitter splatter,
this unerring firmament.
Or consider the wordy choruses of shells,
five nines in four four
the symphonics of rage,
blasting reason in treasonable contempt
that I be beside you in that last gasp,
most surely to hold you.
I see you slip and tumble,
slide and fumble in the knot of it,
the score of it on tired flesh
torn ragged, your skull blown open,
your brain a'burst in glories
and classroom stories of heroics to match the bile.
Fast now, fast, my hands grasp your last gasp,
just for the while fuzz your lost gaze
kiss me, kiss me',
amaze me where better we be laid
lovers in the tempest,
lovers in the fall
one sweet embrace and that is all.
Oh yes, if you are to be used, then I shall use you well
to sanctify this hellish outrage
that we be lovered good'n'proper, smothered entire,
for, most surely, am I not hung like a donkey in this final hour?
Take me, take me then, that I might make thee.