I wrote an unfinished poem
about the time I killed a slug with salt.
I went into great detail –
nevertheless or alwaysthemore –
I did not finish it.
It was a build up:
and the more I wrote,
the more nuance I added.
Here is what I was attempting to say
in that long drawn out poem
about me salting a slug to death.
Immediately after I shook a few granules
onto its plump body, it began to shrivel.
I felt horrible and tried to revive
its desiccated body – I failed.
I was 11 years old and it taught me
a lesson: compassion. So,
the point I was trying to make
with a slow build
to death poem
is this: people kill people all the time,
I am amazed at their ability
to continue living in a
seemingly carefree manner
(or non-carefree manner).
Maybe some killers know
some things about the afterlife we don’t?
“Death is not the End” (?)
hmm…it’s more convincing
when Dylan or Cave sing’s it.
Is there something to that?