Art: Betty Blue
They blame you, just name it, and
You take it personally like a love song dedication.
I warned you, time is want for pleasure,
People, so far, in their rumours, deny
Themselves the pleasure to swallow the hate
One feels for oneself.
It is like a fish-bone caught deep in the throat.
The truth is a rhyme and it rhymes with diamonds,
But what diamonds! Truth.
They’re reclining in their green swimsuits, in their
Green chairs. In one minute they piece together
The image of heavenly greenery
To bank later on their white pillowslips.
Denial is embedded in the airy machinery,
How else do we access paradise, super-
Leisure palaces for their own exotic sake?
This is how it is, this is how it has been,
Our ever closing horizon, programming
Claps with the Roland-808. Now playing
“I would die 4 u…”
Naked now, releasing micro pools of funny ambergris
For the blooper reel,
A point and counter-point in ‘the logic of feelings.’
I brush my fingers with my fingers,
I’ve always done this nervously before a confession: you’re
Mind-blowing, on the verge of extinction. In uniform
You re-create daytime surveillance scapes:
Lobbies, satellite footage of planet
Śime Knežević is a writer and artist. His poems are published or forthcoming in Ambit, Cordite Poetry Review, 2015 London Spoken Word Anthology (GUG Press), The Next Review, Lighthouse Journal, ZARF Poetry and Australian Poetry Journal.