Under the Knife

I have summoned the ninjas.
What could I do? My corpulent
Councilor gave me a choice:
Fade slowly into idle torpor,
Useless, breathless, or submit,
And let them hack me with their
Knives. I could die, he said,
But I probably won't. If I live,
I can go back to smoking
Whole cigarettes, tugging
Pallets at work and not
Sweating, life at it was,
For what it's been worth.
I don't know what it's worth,
But I'd like to sustain it for
My kids, the grandchild
Soon to be born, for the
Woman whose love I so long
To retrieve. I'll submit. Let
The ninjas play dice with my life.
If they're lucky, I'll be resurrected.
If not, I'll go quickly, as I'd rather
Go.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 64 times
Written on 2016-10-28 at 00:56

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