Under the bat tattoo is a halo scar
long enough to reach the sun
on a kite, and a ghost’s pager.
There’s a carving in a rich kid’s tree,
a war cry above a warren, lapin
don’t understand the class divide.
Are heart monitor readings
worth putting on CVs? Is
tracing blood onto paper
equal to the value of stolen china?
Rorschach could see the butterflies
for the demons, and prazosin
brings the moths back from hell.
– Aaron Kent
We all have scars, echoes of our former selves,
of damage that was done. And the fierce dark,
the sun blessing our bodies, knifing us, the rip of you from me.
If we were kites, the air would like a float a thrill.
An honest CV would list a few items. Who you like,
where you go on weekends. An honest CV would
have blood on it from the
thousand days of unemployment.
You want a job? Don’t tell the truth.
You want the truth? Don’t get a job.
You want the truth? Don’t get married.
You want to get married? Don’t tell the truth.
– Kate Gale