Saturday, April 02, 2016

At the Top of My Lungs



1. At the top of my lungs I scream at you all,
Babies, I am your mother!
Love me! Let me in!
Excited by my love, I shriek and bang at your door:
I love you, let me in!

What?
You don’t want to?
Then I will slash my wrists,
And from my wrists will come ants and tired shopkeepers,
All the things you ever imagined or dreamed,
Bits of glass and fear
Will pour from these important veins:
You’ll see how much I love you then.

2. A proposition:
If, every day
I deliberately did things to hurt you,
Would you still love me?

3. Babies, my children,
I sit on your doorstep and scream,
How I love my children,
How I long to love them!
Like a scorpion I would carry you on my back,
My stinger poised, ready to kill;
Oh, how my babies would love me then!

Babies, I would bite off my hands for you,
Like an albatross or a whale, I would swallow you whole
And keep you safe in my stomach;
I love you that much;
Surely that’s worth something.

4. At the top of my lungs I scream at you all,
I am bigger and better than anything you will ever know,
Than anything you will ever be.
Love me.
Love me now.

5. Babies, let’s not argue:
I will always win.
Let me in.




Post a Comment

Blog Archive