Fatigue Empire

Food in the underworld, the Death
In his seedy, green nightgown
Holding up flowers.
The warden of the underworld
In her plastic, pink
Serving silver trays of
Shit and death and black
Birth, the music
Reminds me and
Will not stop
When I turn it off,
A warped music box
Trapped inside.
I repeat what I cannot bear:
Chronic repetition.
This poem is its own
It marks the mind
Like a missing memory
Marks the body. Then it
Changes, makes it invisible.
Back form the edge of what

Cynthia Cruz, "Fatigue Empire" from How The End Begins.  Copyright © 2016 by Cynthia Cruz.  Reprinted by permission of Four Way Books, www.fourwaybooks.com.
Source: How The End Begins (Four Way Books, 2016)
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