No Ground (Found Poem)

[Belated Christmas present for Miss Voodoo Pixie. Found Poem. Source text: Rue Morgue Magazine Issue 151, Letter from the Editor ‘Note from the UnderGround’.]

No Ground

Make me feel good
precisely, watching
put me in that wonderful place
boast ambitious characters, to burn
absurdly happy endings –
a refuge
from the realities of adulthood. It’s your old tree fort.
My happiest time was in the theatre, the perfect escape
during a particularly rough
family black cloud, talent lost
three collapsed months
another bled to death;

terrifyingly close
suffered a heart at the wheel
with his foot a red light.

(We never revived him.)

An overwhelming year, hours we tackle
the medicinal properties of watching a man explode
is more than horror, anything will accuse us
of inviting darkness in

know that we’re sound
our fears fit
they just help us get through the night

It’s a habit crushing worry. An overcoming.
It’s the Girl on a roof trying to save the world.

Favour a return to the status of enough
defeat a god, a crowd
a kiss
instead of returning things, carry that joy

fears die along the way
name the demon real life
fight a nightmare, show us there is no threat
make us forget both forms exist– stand shoulder to shoulder

and keep the things that haunt you.

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