The Construction of Hell

Painting by L. Thomasini


THE CONSTRUCTION OF HELL


the numbers are all put away in the back
of the mind where they come from
and are safe there again like ivory chessmen
in their box and we grew,
grew obedient to the words that made us –
where are the diagrams,
the meek qabbalah of your guesses
where is your house,
that thing that looks like a number
and your shoes fit barely under the sofa
by the window and there is no cat anywhere,
are you listening to me,
I am not good for you.
I have brought you to Hell
a place we have constructed together,
leave me, leave with your accurate children
who take the form of old men
the words made us and unmake us
listen my love is laceration
sea without number.
You read me shallowly these days
the sun said to the wading pool.
Once you were eloquent and deep.
What can I do, the rays of you and
others like you have diminished me,
sky is the most dangerous text
and the more I read the less I knew,
the less I was, grew lean and turbid
–but still the children understand me
they know my feeble perils too
how I can drown a man but not
set fire to a single piece of paper
some meager lover sent his love.


Robert Kelly

Posted over on Charlotte Mandell

from MAY DAY: Poems 2003-2005