Tuesday, March 16, 2010

None More Black

Sometimes you just have to go dark. This is one of my favorite poems that I've stumbled on in the last year or so. It's so dense, there are so many layers and possible meanings. 

What is it about?

It gives me a bad feeling. And I like that feeling.


The Lie
Don Paterson


As was my custom, I’d risen a full hour
before the house had woken to make sure
that everything was in order with The Lie,
his drip changed and his shackles all secure.


I was by then so practiced in this chore
I’d counted maybe thirteen years or more
since last I’d felt the urge to meet his eye.
Such, I liked to think, was our rapport.


I was at full stretch to test some ligature
when I must have caught a ragged thread, and tore
his gag away; though as he made no cry,
I kept on with my checking as before.


Why do you call me The Lie? he said. I swore:
it was a child’s voice. I looked up from the floor.
The dark had turned his eyes to milk and sky
and his arms and legs were all one scarlet sore.


He was a boy of maybe three or four.
His straps and chains were all the things he wore.
Knowing I could make him no reply
I took the gag before he could say more


and put it back as tight as it would tie
and locked the door and locked the door and locked the door

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