as will i

One minute, a god -
the next, a pesky fly
laying its little eggs.

Not so far removed from one another,
but still:
either way, a creator
and a parasite,
rubbing my hands together
with greed for love.

Always pulling ritual daggers
out of thin air,
positioning them at my own throat
as if to ask,
Do I still shudder?

And when the day comes that I don’t,
then I must be evolved -
or numb.

Numbness,
I can work with.

Because sometimes,
I feel how my mother looked
when she came home from work
and clunked into a La‑Z‑Boy -
her legs bouncing
with tension
like a wire strung too tight,
vibrating with fatigue.

As a child,
I imagined she had
some ball and chain
around her ankle
she couldn’t shake off.

She died with it still.

————

Update: I’ve been making art and poetry “zines” which are just mini magazines, and now selling them! They’re digital copies, but if anyone is interested, lemme know!



Poetry by aidan haskel The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 43 times
Written on 2025-07-21 at 14:18

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text