24
Three poems by erric emerson
Day One (Zero)
This is the last time
I tell myself with the resolve of a dumb,
fattened cow grazing in full view of the shambles.
A knowing so known I nod my head up-and-down,
followed by an audible uh-huh with my eyes shut.
I’ve made pacts with otherworldly things
in case I can’t go through with it or won’t;
they’ll snatch up careers, mates, pages,
just so I can get some days.
The last, last time.
I break the seal of the glass neck,
put the bottle to my face,
gulp down gold bliss,
and feel my chest catch forest fire.
Repeat this process until I’m a person half-full.
Till the cigarettes are daring the carpet to blacken
and the tempo is two seconds ahead of mumbled
sing-along.
.
You need only to:
-make a meeting.
-recycle all glass.
-turn your life around.
OK. Find a mirror, grip it with both hands,
look into those blues,
(hold on, let’s go do it right now)
and swear to me, (you),
that this is the bottom-low,
you need buckets full of help,
a real leaf-turned.