David Smith: Crazy In Love With A Savage Messiah
Ghastly and perverse,
with lightly applied brushstrokes
of plausible insanity,
to know her,
to really
know her,
is to redefine
the meaning
of pale and interesting.
A smiling serpent
oddly coiled,
her strike point
delicious anticipation,
rather than
outright delivery;
a phlebotomist’s worst nightmare,
as pure as something
you might see
in a silent film.
So chaste, so suffering,
so much love
so brutally misplaced;
like Saint Bernadette
or General Franco,
when she gives you
extreme unction,
you will not be surprised
when quickly and quietly
she slices-off her cheeks,
because she no longer
wants her tears
to stick to her face.
