October 7, 2012 5 Comments
I cannot get the taste
of some imaginary poison
out of my mouth
my head will implode,
that much is for sure
sperm in flames
eggs encased in concrete
this story will remain untold
for each letter betrays one another
there is no worth in poetry
anymore:
my life is merely
another poorly-made reconstruction
Sean Lynch is a writer and editor who lives in South Philly. Lynch's first book of poems, the city of your mind, was published in 2013 by Whirlwind Press. His second chapbook, Broad Street Line, focusing on politics and public transportation, was published by Moonstone Press in 2016. 100 Haiku is his latest release, also published by Moonstone Press in 2018. Lynch's writing has been featured in numerous publications online and in print, including (parenthetical), Poetry Quarterly, and Tincture Journal.
For some reason the sperm and eggs parts and everything afterwards makes me think of all the problems associated with cloning. But being me, I probably got that wrong too, right?
Hey, if that’s how you’d like to see it, there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s up for interpretation.
cool.
“I cannot get the taste of some imaginary poison out of my mouth” – Fantastic. I have felt this way before and not known it. Still can’t define exactly what the feeling is, but you describe it perfectly.
Even with this description it still does not paint a full picture of the feeling. It comforts me that you can relate.