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The Magic of Words
Poem for Dean Young
The Magic of Words
~for Dean Young
They’ll give you a new lease on life,
they’ll replace your old diseased heart
with one they plucked from the sea,
saying, It’s fine to feel like a whale now,
capable of holding your breath for hours.
But you should always read the smaller words,
the ones that absolve anyone of anything
beyond the buoyancy of the lifeboats.
After all, the sea is unpredictable,
like a poem written about avocados,
where scooping out the pit
reveals a ghastly human eye,
and suddenly you hear the world screaming
YOU DIDN’T DO ENOUGH!
YOU DIDN’T DO ENOUGH
TO STOP THE PAIN OF THE HURTING!
One must wonder what more a poet could do
than simply gift his life’s essence to the void,
turn yourself perpetually into a magician
who never runs out of hats
working in a flooded Las Vegas casino
that’s long been emptied for renovation,
but the universe must’ve gone bankrupt
trying to keep up with the damage.
When I think of that magician now,
I’ll do my best to remember how I felt
the first time he thrust his saw
through the torso of my body,
twisted the two halves around in their boxes,
and said, Tada! You can see yourself.
