on the mend

on the mend

I’ve been told to part 

piece by piece, to divorce myself dose by dose from you — but the ever-dwindling remnants make a mockery of what was & the snide snickering bombards the bulwarks of my mind.

— the jeers and jubilation will sunder the city walls in seven days. today is number six. but you are no prophet and I am no harlot and this not Jericho so no — no, my enemy, you do not terrify!

what parting of the red sea? what victories in the east? who is this moses? I know no og.

I am a polack, perhaps,

a kraut, a yankee,

an american,

but am I an amorite?

forgive me the flax fields lie fallow,

crimson cord is too costly

and besides

the kings’ men are on their way