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1485: Wishbone | Richard Siken

Richard Siken

You saved my life he says I owe you everything.
You don’t, I say, you don’t owe me squat, let’s just get going, let’s just get gone, but he’s
keeps saying I owe you, says Your shoes are filling with your own damn blood,
you must want something, just tell me, and it’s yours.
          But I can’t look at him, can hardly speak,
I took the bullet for all the wrong reasons, I’d just as soon kill you myself, I say.
You keep saying I owe you, I owe…but you say the same thing every time.
          Let’s not talk about it, let’s just not talk.
Not because I don’t believe it, not because I want it any different, but I’m always saving
and you’re always owing and I’m tired of asking to settle the debt.
          Don’t bother.
You never mean it anyway, not really, and it only makes me that much more ashamed.
There’s only one thing I want, don’t make me say it, just get me bandages, I’m bleeding,
          I’m not just making conversation.
There’s smashed glass glittering everywhere like stars. It’s a Western, Henry,
it’s a downright shoot-em-up. We’ve made a graveyard out of the bone white afternoon.
          It’s another wrong-man-dies scenario
and we keep doing it, Henry, keep saying until we get it right… 
but we always win and we never quit, see, we’ve won again, here we are at the place
          where I get to beg for it
where I get to say Please, for just one night, will you lay down next to me, we can leave our
clothes on, we can stay all buttoned up?
          or will I say
Roll over and let me fuck you till you puke, Henry, you owe me this much, you can indulge me
this at least, can’t you? but we both know how it goes. I say I want you inside me
           and you hold my head underwater, I say  I want you inside me
and you split me open with a knife. I’m battling monsters, half-monkey, half-tarantula,
I’m pulling you out of the burning buildings and you say I’ll give you anything.
          But you never come through.
Give me bullet power. Give me power over angels. Even when you’re standing up
you look like you’re lying down, but will you let me kiss your neck, baby? Do I have to
          tie your arms down?
Do I have to stick my tongue in your mouth like the hand of a thief, like a burglary
like it’s just another petty theft? It makes me tired, Henry. Do you see what I mean?
          Do you see what I’m getting at?
You swallowing matches and suddenly I’m yelling Strike me. Strike anywhere.
I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you’ve taken something out of me, and I have to search
          my body for the scars, thinking
Did he find that one last tender place to sink his teeth in? I know you want me to say it, Henry,
it’s in the script, you want me to say Lie down on the bed, you’re all I ever wanted
          and worth dying for too
but I think I’d rather keep the bullet this time. It’s mine, you can’t have it, see,
I’m not giving it up. This way you still owe me, and that’s
          as good as anything.
You can’t get out of this one, Henry, you can’t get it out of me, and with this bullet
lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because
           it’s all I have,
because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your
slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this
          bullet inside me
‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth. Don’t you see, it’s like
I’ve swallowed your house keys, and it feels so natural, like the bullet was already there,
          like it’s been waiting inside me the whole time.
Do you want it? Do you want anything I have? Will you throw me to the ground
like you mean it, reach inside and wrestle it out with your bare hands?
          If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.
Do you know how it ends? Do you feel lucky? Do you want to go home now?
There’s a bottle of whiskey in the trunk of the Chevy and a dead man at our feet
          staring up at us like we’re something interesting.
This is where the evening splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard,
and make a wish.

On this day in...
2011: "The Embrace" by Mark Doty
2010: "Snowdrops" by Louise Glück
2009: "Adjectives of Order" by Alexandra Teague
2008: Weekend, no poem

If I'm lonely/it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore/in the last red light of the year


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Jun. 26th, 2012 06:20 am (UTC)
oh man. this fucking poem. sucker punch to the gut.
Jun. 26th, 2012 11:30 am (UTC)
This one's so powerful. At first I was confused and couldn't make sense out of it, but I started reading it out loud midway through it and it made a lot of sense.
Jun. 26th, 2012 06:21 pm (UTC)
This is my favorite Siken poem, thank you.
Jun. 27th, 2012 03:42 am (UTC)
You're very welcome. I'm really happy that this is your favorite, since this poem was actually posted for you. You mentioned how much you liked Siken a few days ago, and so I figured I'd post one of his poems. What a happy coincidence that the first Siken I had bookmarked was "Wishbone". Also, the next poem by Kim Addonizio is for you too.
Jul. 6th, 2012 04:31 pm (UTC)
Two of my all-time favorites, those made my day!
Jun. 27th, 2012 09:29 am (UTC)
this is amazing, and the adrienne rich is one of my favourites of hers.
Jun. 27th, 2012 08:58 pm (UTC)
He is seriously one of my favorite poets, every time I read one of his poems, even if I've read it before, I'm can't help but wish I had raw talent like he does. He lives and teaches in my town, and I hope one day to meet him!!
Jun. 28th, 2012 05:22 pm (UTC)
Where is that? I would love to meet him too, or at least attend a reading some day...
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )


poetry, exceptindreams
a poem some days

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