I'll be with the pill bottles, the scalpels, the nooses
if you ever want to find me; I'll be looking at my
rain-rippled reflection in the glass, a ghost of me.
It's raining outside.
There's something about it,
like a dead man's bony fingers
on his coffin lid, that slips through me,
like a knife through butter
For a heartbeat- one that stays trapped in
my atoms, wiggling like an electric eel- I am young with
copperburst eyes and strawberry lips- then it fades fast.
We all fall down- like the rain on the
other side of the glass, like the shovel of a
man digging his grave. I would lie in it, but
the trees outside would shake their heads in pity,
their beards sodden with tears, as though
they know how this will end.
(I'll be with the pill bottles, the scalpels, the nooses,
I'll be there, a rain-rippled reflection
just beyond my reach)
I didn't like how it was followed by a knife/butter reference, as that seemed to make it redundant. I also didn't like the first line; I thought it began the poem to... obviously. Same thing with the last, parenthese-d, stanza.
