1:43AM (A Quiet Eruption)
Location
My face is broken; it can’t show emotion anymore.
I didn’t smile enough, and I frowned for too long.
Heresy and healing, a hermaphrodite of hate and love.
A dark swamp, snake-rippled water, the black mud
of Louisiana bayou, baying like a whore in heat.
An escalation of energy, a semblance of the sweet sound
of orgasm, the inadequacy slipping away, a silver ghost.
Dans le restaurant, I spy, with a little cry,
the God of Misery, and, at the bar, as we drink our
beers, he says to me, “You’re sitting in Rimbaud’s seat.”