riddle me this fatman

I must not grieve my silences
while choosing not to breathe lies into them

yet because you feel you are owed a poem
my education, which has only been borrowed,
must make the arguments promised of a bullet
more compelling than Neruda could even know

linked through bitterness, to
deluge the starving with the busy
decorum of disastrous diligence
you may, if ...

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quietly, quietly sat a lie
arms outstretched
palms staked to the fierce eye
observing within
as, first, flesh mottles
closer still to see without
while blister
vermilion doubts
one apiece of each
seized mortal engine
dripped of framed wax
placed in a filleted whole
gas pored
for a hungry earth
this is all I wish today
let each word die in a dusty throat
a melt th...

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