The Wayward Orchard / Paul Sohar

About the Author
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POEMS
Sunfish Pond
Requiem for a Refugee Camp
Summer Past
The Geese Were Gone
The Wayward Orchard
Mount Katahdin
A Tour Without Virgil
The Ravished
Ideal
Daniel
My Dream House
The God of Spring
The (Last) Party
The Secret
The Other 
This Wall
Summerfest
Little Night Music
Being and Its Skin
Grandma’s Silence
The Ruler of the Mirror
The Silent Dreamer
Keep It Simple
Canyon Dreams

 

 

The Other

My double, he claims, his rags flying,
he wings his way at me on the skirts of his army coat:
     You can’t just walk by me, he says
blocking the sidewalk like a garbage truck,
     I’m life itself you know
     and you cannot walk by life untouched
     no matter how much you hate the dirt and shit
     oozing out of my sleeves...
And then his hands fly out like vultures
landing on my sleeves and chest,
     You can’t just walk by this life here
     keeping your hands in your pockets
     while mine are bathed in shit,
     yes, I just wiped my ass with this
     one I’ve got tight around your neck,
     and look at my ass, you innocent bystander,
     I’ll lift my skirt to show it,
     because this is what life is like,
     and if you still ignore me
     I’ll lie on top you and let you suck my breasts,
     suck the vinegar out of this thing I am
     for this is all you can get out of  real life...
Stabbing my face with his beard,
he forces me to look under his robes,
at nakedness of ripe red color
and of wild sewer smell
until I whip out a credit card from my pocket
and cut off his hand clinging to my neck.
He falls away, followed by his hands, like drops
of steaming excrement on the asphalt, but
his words crumple my ears as I turn to go:
     This is your life, sucker, this is it....


  © Paul Sohar, 2011
 

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