Wednesday, July 8, 2009

461. THE DEVIL IS SWEET

THE DEVIL IS SWEET
So it's a fine line we're given to walk,
one that's brokered by double hands on
the wheel : tokens of trade, sellers of solace.
The rub is the connection (whichever we feel)
of which hands are on the tiller and who's
steering that wheel.
-
And then I watch you walk in -
holding something hard, with an
infant strapped across your front.
I try to make my syllables work,
with the lining, the pure reason,
the thought of what we take.
-
Instead, I find myself once
more thinking of things to attach,
strap to my chest, haul on my back,
or drag by a chord.
-
(The Devil is hungry, the devil is sweet.
Gets you down on your back,
gets you back on your feet).

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