Tuesday, October 25, 2011

well you win

I will not endure

I will not avail

you'll stop me dead in my tracks

(as they say)

cliche for cliche

your lack of forgiveness

against my acting-out

how could you care?

how does it matter?

you win

my expiation

is not enough

my sorrow and contrition

a joke at my own expense

and all the atonement

is laughed out of court

the judge has made up

his mind

it's no forgiveness

and repentance is futile

you win

you're bigger

you're stronger

you break wind

and the hillsides jump

you belch out souls

on whom you've gorged

and the trees bend

like flavor straws in a glass

of rancid milk

oh no use to plead

no use to lie down

and play dead

(as they say)

you win

tracking us with our own scents

measuring our strides

postulating the directions

in which we will flee

and you will open a way


but opened

and undo our best efforts

to gnaw at the paw

(as they say)

and nothing will dissuade you

nothing will distract you

nothing is forgiven

so you put us up

and take me down

you crush us under your heel

and I sink bemused

under the weight of my affliction

because now as always

you daunt me in my littleness and

you win

you win

you win

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.

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