DEATH Poem: Death is the Mother of Beauty: For My Domestic Goth, by Patrick Rogers

I know I said that shit some time ago
And I don’t entirely know what I meant
We might be able to maze our way through it
What with all the looming death when
We walk through the Macy’s furniture
Section and notice all the white and o white
And taupe and we say it all looks the same
And we know that that shit ain’t pretty
Our life together will eat time and fashions
Just as our love will devour us whole
After 50 years we’ll bloom dierently
The music of our lives will have decorated time
With the maximal and lush colors we desired
Just look at the 20 shades of eyeshadow or nail
Polish you wear, each more lustrous and beautiful
Me? Twenty pair of mismatched crazy socks
I wonder if death is the mother of beauty
Like sacrice is the deadbeat father of love
We recline in our palace of fabric and cry
At the brokeback-swanson zombie story
This poem rushes headlong into the unknown
Like the ever-ongoing present, like the beauty
You sacrice to my love or if I blink and it leaks
Out into the world and says what it means
Just as a corpse is the result of death your beauty
Is the result of you and I will kill anything
And everything dear just to keep you near

Author: poetryfest

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