Boots

[shanmonster]

I just found something I think I wrote after mulling over a certain Roman emperor.

.......

You rest on the stairs
head thrown back onto outstretched arm
and if I hadn't killed you myself,
hadn't stepped in the blood that fills
your boots and sops your hem...
Well, if I hadn't, we wouldn't be here
like this now, would we?

And so I sit alongside you,
Gaze up at the ceiling with eyes as
alive as yours are dead, and I laugh.

Who shall fill my little boots when it's my turn to rest?

Comments

[amelielee.livejournal.com]

I like this a lot. Thanks for sharing!

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

:)

[(Anonymous)]

How strange.
I came here to find just this and expected to have to trawl through archives. It was early days of a poetry thang when you put it on your blog first time was all I could remember.
Roman Emperor, huh? I cast them as ecclesiastical and lovers. I never considered that the hem was a woman's, or that the voice was a woman's (despite the author being of that persuasion, herself) How the hell does this make me visualise a stone staircase with vaulted ceilings and an arched window? And a Daniel Abinieri type in catholic priest's robes narrating...
Thanks again. Would you mind if I printed a copy to keep? The chances of you randomly republishing every time I want to read it are pretty slim, is all. As it is, you were ten days early this time.