“GUTTED”

gutted like
a fish.

gutted like
a pig.

gutted like
a man
pulling out
from
his dreams.
his desires.

gutted like
a puppet,
as its own
fist
pulls out
from itself.

gutted like
minutes from
our months.

gutted like
kisses
at sunrise.

gutted like
honey
from a hive.

gutted like
love
when it was
love.

gutted like
her plane
flown home.

gutted like
a pun
breaking up
the poem.

a man and a woman
enter a bar
and she goes home
with the homeless
bum.

gutted like
rain
from a gutter.

gutted like
beer
from a jar.

gutted like
bottles
from a box.

gutted like
a cat
by a tiger.

gutted like
a child
by his father.

gutted like
a corpse
by a surgeon,
by a mortician,
by Ed Gein.

gutted like
our bowels
down a toilet.

and we stand
beneath the grates;
mouths aghast.
hungry for the honey
that drips at dawn.

we wake again
as our gutting
begins.

gutted
waiting
for
freight
on a
train
with
no cell
signal.
and she
picks up
her gun
instead
of her
phone.

gutted like
a bullet
from
a chamber.

gutted like
brain blown
from
the prettiest
head.

gutted
doing my best
when my best
just could
not cut it.

gutted
until finally
i am gutless.
a termite
exits my skeleton
and i crumble,
a hollow man-suit.

there's as much
of me
left for you
as
there is for me;
yet you complain.

what can i say?
i'm sorry i was
gutted.

gutted like
an empty
apology.

gutted like
all the souls
from heaven.

gutted like
science
from religion.

gutted like
all the good
that comes
to its rotten
end.

gutted like
a poet
finishing
at a microphone
to no applause.

gutted like
you
gutted by
me.

gutted like
all the fish
in the
deep blue sea.

gutted by this line:
too little. too late.

narrative poem written on 05-18-2014 by: on mattkane.com
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