Two sides of my brain open up into arguing. <br />One wishes to save, the other- to watch die. <br />You are speaking to me in closed monologues. <br /> <br />Your ears, a vacant canal, <br />your eyes, instruments for measuring light, <br />do not receive me. <br />I am the communion, I am the host, <br />take me, feel me crumble <br />in your mouth, a bearer of wet words. <br />I am lying partway to the ground <br />and my palm is soft butter. <br />Isn't everybody dead? <br /> <br />The colors move to black and white <br />and then suddenly everyone and their tuxedo <br />becomes grey. <br />I have watched them become shadows <br />but they do not notice <br />my smile holds the remnants <br />of a dull conversation <br />between God and myself <br />and myself.<br /><br />MARINA GIPPS<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-going-away-party/
