“My Famous Ring”

You wore my famous ring
on your suicidal hand—
while conducting research
in making
the same mistake twice.

Since learning men could fly,
you jumped off cliffs to float in lakes.
Since learning men could die,
you jumped off jets to float in space.

How many angels did you murder
by the glove on your hand—
with one stride of rubber over cracks in the sand?
Did they never echo soft enough
as the pine cones blazed?
Did they never learn to sooth your nerves
before the crazy came?

Did you lose them to the empty page—
behind where you wrote out your scorn?
Did you lose them to the angry voice—
where mothers never swore?
Did you lose them to the ceremony—
the one we never had;
Because the best ideas are being saved
for a promised land?

You wore my famous ring
on your suicidal hand,
waiting for a symphony
to betray Brahms,
by breaking into
a rock n’ roll band.

Since learning men could fly,
you jumped off cliffs to touch the ground.
Since learning men could die,
you jumped off jets to touch the crown.

And now I have lost you to the lure.
I have lost you to the lamb.
I have lost you to the only child—
who never made his stand.
I have lost you to the symphony—
and the orgies that they play,
blending Schubert with apologies
into an electric amp disgrace.

narrative poem written on 04-18-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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