Out
of the cage that my black dog has built,
Beyond
the pages of my latest book,
And
through the gauze curtains of ceaseless guilt.
My
name is unseen,
No
one views this ageing face.
I
am just an empty space,
Vanished
and spent without a trace,
But
please don’t ask me how I died.
I
hear so much noise all ‘round me these days -
Voices
that argue and accents that coax,
Shouts
rising above the muzak that plays,
And
laughter that follows dubious jokes.
My
name is noiseless,
I
live on the edge of sense,
Just
beyond all resonance,
Silenced
in the present tense.
So
no one asks me how I died.
I
watch the cars approach and then go past,
Making
long drives to vast weekenders;
Or
on the road for fun, having a blast,
Utes
with plastic plates stuck fast in fenders.
My
name is linger.
I
live where there is no go.
Every
day is mean and slow,
As
if there’s nowhere else to know.
Please
don’t ask me how I died.
I
forget when my green heart was hollowed,
Scooped
out and ditched like avocados’ skins,
Destined
to bleed for someone I’d followed,
Forever
punished for another’s sins.
My
name is stigma,
Even
though I made no gain.
I
wear another’s ball and chain,
And
bear tattoos of shame and pain.
Just
don’t ask me how I died.
