Mary X - The Envelope.

'Hello'.

A blunt nail is being
hammered into a slumber
waste bin

contributing to build
the library.
I walk towards

the building;
darkly lit,
lamps of hammering

death splitting
my seams and
a thousand Africans

die. I (the boy
the man. the beast
the light. the dark)

reach into a barbed
plate, thrusting
the first book

into my hands.
It falls open with a puff
of magical dew

(wrong place. wrong page
wrong words. wrong caged
animal living a free life.)

In the front of the Troy
of all books is
an envelope,

licked and sealed by
a venturing tongue,
written in blood

spilling from inside
the crevices of a
death-red pen;

(right passion. left hate
right anger. right in
the slump of my seat.)

'To Fengallio'.
I roam into the horizon
and trip over little boys

and girls wearing suits,
as if they are going to
organize the bombing of

Xufurer; the only place
my mind with it's wishes
cares to travel

without being bitten
by that bastard
lady-man (Fengallio) .

(Fengallio, Fengallio
you bastard Fengallio.)

Which creek shall I sit
in to read
such words,

such destructive,
creative
words from the mouth

of the tiger.
Under a tree perhaps,
among others perhaps,

in my room perhaps,
perhaps it won't be opened
and I will torture myself

to know what is inside
to make the opening
of the envelope

more compelling.
That way there
will be no

disappointments.
(helplessly hanging. helplessly living
to die. living

to carry on living
in false
hope-living.)

The envelope is sitting
in it's own tangled
web

of content
in front of me,
taunting me,

laughing at my funnily
shaped thoughts,
abstract colon

and diamond cut
24 carat
heart.

‘I must reply to your
letter,

Yours surreptitiously,
Mary’.

Mary X

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-envelope/