Literary Exercise # 22: An Imitation of Christ

Hey all. I figured after my last tripped-up venture into psychedelia, I'd return to some semblance of normalcy and deliver a decent poem for you to read. The title is good enough (or at least engaging enough) to merit the heading of this entry, or at least I think, which is why I abandoned my usual practice of coming up with a separate catchy headline. I hope you enjoy it. It's on the second draft, which is vastly improved from the first, and I think it has enough "staying power" to label itself as the final version without seeming too arrogant.

An Imitation of Christ

It is vanity to follow the desires of the flesh, and to long after that for which you must afterward suffer grievous punishment ~ Thomas a Kempis

The drooped, brooding host of this hotel doorstep,
I am,
a dark Judas,
sentiments lingering long enough
to finger sundry cigarettes bursting ash
dandelions out of habit and to divine
a nervous tic –
this must be,
the way to discuss a betrayal.

Burns self-inflicted
and only logical
chronicle my journey under
the only five stars of New York,
meanwhile battle reports stream in
of vice and virtue
and on a whim I clutch my cloth pack
close from passersby,
wresting control at my right hand and ascending,
an ancient elevator.

Fourteen floors. Steady beeps. Slow rise
until the familial sounds of strangers greets me
unfettered and I
pass them by,
heading for stronger spirits.

Life rasps, I return again
for the sixth night after the sixth wake
of starting upright against sheets drenched
with sweat and sorrow.

I’m thirsting for I know not what,
assuming the search as surreal
and throwing the thought lightly until
gaunt and goaded by my liver’s lust
my zeal turns feral and I scour my neighbor’s wells
to see if even one of them will not run dry.

The rigors of slaying the fattened calf
have proved too much,
I take the off the cuff approach
and bring the cutting edge
within inches of my throat before
clattering pretense on the barroom floor, splashing liquor
and waiting in patience to be threshed.