Seventeen Lashings

Seventeen Lashings

A Poem by Haley Smith

Is it
enough?
I ask myself.
Then I say,
What a foolish
question!

I have this whip,
see, and I have this fleshy
needlework, see.
Endless punishment,
always walking to the mirror
and ripping apart
the reflection.

Enough.
What a word,
louder than the ghost of a
Shakespearean player.
Always booming,
Enough! enough!
You haven't done enough!

Perfection,
peace,
and production are like
the moon, see.
The most infamous of tricksters.
You think they are
so close that with a 
whisk of your wrist,
you could grab them
and cradle them.

Oh, my cords will get weary but
calm and content
are like the clouds and
the stars and the glow.

Right there,
but never.

© 2010 Haley Smith


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Alittle dark, but noice....

Posted 13 Years Ago



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Added on June 5, 2010
Last Updated on June 5, 2010

Author

Haley Smith
Haley Smith

Fayetteville, AR



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Writing
For You For You

A Poem by Haley Smith