Posted in quatorzain by maggie on 2012/01/22

Leave me, wicked lover! Hit the street
facefirst, for all I care. You'll not get missed
by me, what with the company you keep. 
Permit me to forget you still exist
since I've existed solely for defeat,

scarcely worth your worst. Why then repeat
our sick affair? Why risk another tryst
on sins you'd have to answer for? How cheap
word gets depends — to you the twist
depends who's beating versus who gets beat. 

Go on, get out! I don't deserve the hurt
of love like yours. Leave now! I must insist. 
Besides, it's not as though you owe me dirt —
I never could've been one you'd've kissed.

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4 Responses

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  1. clarioretenebris said, on 2012/01/23 at 19:42

    I’m disturbed by the mood and meaning of this, but I’ll bite my tongue and simply wish you well. What I do want to inquire about, however, is the backward steps you seem to be taking from a string of sonnets you had at the beginning of your collection. I’m wondering, are you planning to link the two ends? Or will one stretch out toward the positive hopes in one direction while the other breaks down into the crushed dreams down the other direction? From what I’ve seen of the rest of your writing, I suspect you already know, if you don’t mind saying.

    • maggie said, on 2012/01/23 at 20:01

      Keen eye, dear friend, but buckle in and hold on tight if you stay for the ride. You’re bound to hate me for sure before it’s done, for the evil I seek to exile is my own. The foul spirit that condemns the fist of the one who hits me while excusing and failing to accept responsiblity for the damage done by my own, but rather treating mine as the fault of whoever happens to be in the way, and what the hell’s wrong with them if they can’t take it and shut up, that sort of thing. Mind, I don’t celebrate it and party over it like some would – it’s here the way it is because I despise it more in myself than I dare ever beg the indulgence of anyone doing it to me, but you’ll still hate me before it’s all done, just the same.

      And I’ll say up front that yes, I know where it’s going, and it will link through when done – the full 100 I had originally been asked to write. Then, as now, I planned the second half to reflect the first. Find the most hopeful in the first portion, and you’ll be prepared when the worst of me emerges in the latter parts.

      Unchanged, I did promise myself back when I began. I knew then where the last half would take me, so did try my best to leave it, to dodge it, to beat it back with a stick. There was no helping it. It had to be this way. It’s how things are. All I’ll hint at is that I did plan my escape in advance – I have finished up the first draft of a second set of 100, another full circle, but that one rewinding this first set and coming through with a far more exquisite me. Have the heart and patience to see me through the 50 I’m writing now, and you’ll maybe forgive me once you see the rewound set.

  2. maggie said, on 2012/01/24 at 12:25

    At the kind suggestion of the patron and friend whose guidance launched the cycle of poems of which this one is 98th of 100 (presently counting down toward midway through the cycle), and for the benefit of the love of my life and his child I am carrying, I will add a few further words on this one and the ones that are and will come in proximity to it. These words have never been easy for me, whether in therapy or in bed with a lover or even in my poetry. But my friend is right: these are words that must get said.

    I lost one of my dearest friends in one of the most brutal ways a heart can be torn. Technically and clinically, one might not call it suicide, but the truth is that she chose her death with no less precision than if she had aimed a gun up her nose – she made a point of seeking out and taking on the most abusive clients, then learned the triggers of the most cruel among them, then got him good and drunk, then did nothing to defend herself. She simply made it happen to her. I held her hand in the hospital as she slipped away, promising her I would breathe for nothing more than to carry her words to the 2-year old daughter they already had taken away from her.

    The evil demon I want most to damn to hell is the one that took her life. The same one that has so twisted one too many of my friends who have been targets and playthings of its malice. The same one that now loves me, with no aim other than to destroy me as it destroyed her. The cursed legacy of my friend’s father must end.

    • clarioretenebris said, on 2012/01/24 at 16:52

      Oh, Pearl! I’m so sorry, and so in tears. Massive hugs I give to you, all over and every which way, and hopes for your healing and peace, and that her daughter will grow in love and joy untouched by the pain of her mother’s struggle. I would “like” this poem for your courage in expressing what you are exposing and for your fight against the evil you portray, except this is one of many times for your poetry when “like” simply does not express how impressed I am at your writing and your vision.

Sincere comment by readers who accept responsibility for their words will earn my appreciation and response.

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