Rehearsals, Practices, And Dry Runs

I have ended my world
countless times in my head,

so often and so completely
that to walk into the sunshine
of a November day 
feels the same as crawling
through the heat of July: 

the former is the aftermath,
the world become a table
swept clean in anger;
the latter is a memory of 
a solo holocaust,
and of how I burned.

In my head I’ve ended my world
so many times in so many ways
that I can tell you how to use
any of fifteen easily acquired items
from kitchen or bath to bring about
your personal apocalypse
without even consulting a list.

It has become so normal,
I barely bother with being alive any more.

So when the world feels like it does today,
when it feels like I needn’t work hard
to end my world –when it feels like
all I have to do is speak out loud
of who I am and what I believe,

or just silently be myself
while someone in anger and fear

puts the gun or knife
or bomb or fire to me
for that alone — 

I see it as the next turn
in the game I’ve played
over and over for most of my life
and I can say that
whatever the way forward,
whether it leaves me dead or alive
I’ve been there before,

and I can work with it.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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