I'm just a sitting duck
out in the open
waiting
ready
for you to take your shot
and knowing
that you
with your perfect
(precise aim)
leaden bullet
drawing blood from above my heart
will take me down
yes, there is no more resistance
crumpled
and ragged
and bound
like a buoy
or a boat
or a fish, its tail to an other's
inevitable
like the end of the world
or you and I
my acquiescence
is like water rejoining itself
and I sink
like a stone
with the bubbles rising
in ribbons
to the light
until I reach the bottom
and settle in to this fate
tied to you
by strings I cannot see
but know are there
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I have a picture that I drew about a year ago, that I think would go really well with this poem. I need to find it and scan it in. Oh well.
ReplyDeletei like it. is it a picture of a duck dying? that's mean, why'd you draw a dying duck? did you kidnap a dying duck once? just kidding.
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