Untouchable

Your carcass breathes

to the highest heaven, stretching

retching

a lifetime all the way back

down

to one ragged elbow, blinded

to the terminal,

the surrounding

floor, and everyone

whishing past

in thundering silence

to every open door,

abandoning two stunned

New York’s Finest

to stand, to stare

to wish to the God

who made them

and you they

were never there, praying

it’s really only pale

or at worst just stale

pudding

caking

trickling

glistening

down your cocked

welcoming

chin

from a mouth stuffed

and gagged

against all stares

with no good answers

to anyone’s prayers

and a stinking grin.

—James Keane

Originally published in Open Wide.

#Poetry