Poem For Anthony ( Because We Poets Rarely Forget)



True Friendship will always exist even when the specter of death looms between us. One Love. lmr




Hey Ant'nee:

I want to

Turn you into a fire-

Escape poem written some

Angry summer night when sleep won't

Come & the rage of red sirens bleed inside

My eyes, throat, & eardrums. I want to fold this

Tangled up, jumbled up, fed up, fucked up frenzy

I call a feeling into a poem or some such assemblage of

Wordplay, even if editors will refuse to pay... & readers will never get it.

When a late-night

Drive-by shot another

Hole through Harlem's heart,

Where was I when the drama came

& every dream's light went dark... & CNN

Copped a station break? Sometimes my mind gets lost

Inside the static ache, but just so you know, upon that shattering news,

This whole world moved to a different beat, some slow-motion spectator

Claimed my face. . .  &  I  wondered  why  I could  not  breathe... much less

Move from this place... I am in       the center of                your scream, Ant'nee!


I am in the echo of the shotgun's

Blast. I am in the exploding sound that

Came afterward. I am the shine of fearful eyes

Within that tragic front line. I am lost inside that night's melee. I am

That stun of surprise. I am that ache inside your mother's chest. I am that flickering

Heat. I am at the apex of that speeding fireball of pain. Yes. I am within that laser-like

Pain.   I am caught    between    that    cold     blank    stare     of     impending          death.


No need to wonder where

I was, Ant'nee. What matters now

Is where I am. I am diving inside your

Body, where all your pain is manufactured.

I am a lone swimmer inside your thick river of bile.

I am that gagging gurgle of blood you are choking upon. I

Am not a graceful swimmer, but I am doing backstrokes inside

This gray ooze of murdered memory. I am drowning inside your

Splattered brain parts. I am floating within the pinkish chunks of

Your sensitivity. I am wading through the bullshit … oh so much bullshit!

I am vibrating within the viscera displayed inside the center of your scream.

Ant-nee, I am in

The rigid vogue of

Your dead limbs. I am

Caught & pinned against

The stiffening joints of your

Crumpled body. I am that cold slab

Of uncomfortable concrete. I am in the

Rising of petrified air. I am in the stink

Of your Air-Jordan'd feet. I am that deep hole

Ripped inside your trifling heart.  I am that cool

White  sheet. . .  white breeze. . .  white  Light  of

An angel's wings. But mostly, I have died, a little death...

& the echo to what's left of me resounds inside the center of your scream.

copyright © 2013 by L.M. Ross

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