The Body Neither Politic Nor True







By the time I go to bed tonight, there will
be so many drugs in my system I could sleep for twenty hours or more

If taken notice, you could donate my blood
though certainly not to any organization I know of, it

Would by then have fermented
to a fine red wine, but perhaps back to the vampires

And their medical drones; all the
champions who have not felt the need burrow down, make

Of your body a home and a pallet
where I bleed philosophies that don’t belong to me as I sweep

The cobwebs of the seething fold
of flesh fallen now over my face: as though this too were not

A mask, and I, never the tenanted
ghost of some absent king: no more asleep now, than then

© Dean J. Baker $5.39 print, ebook $1.99



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