[madloomis78]

The Devil’s got my hands, at least, and the rest of me

goes to this guy I saw on his death bed,

apparently my cousin, though I’d never heard of him

my whole life, and not that I really think

he is in me, but as I’m floating mid-air,

arms dangled to the side, I can’t help but wonder

if this is what dying is like: being trapped

sleeping in a body, not necessarily my own,

looking up occasionally at passersby, those who

want to see me before I take my last breath.

I’ll never be as sweet and innocent as Linda Blair

before the Devil got a hold of her.

My body had cuts and bruises way before Delano

ever took vacancy within the Holiday Inn that is my body.

And about my hands: I write on Sundays

just to be sure, but I think Beelzebub’s still in them,

but he’s the politician Milton had belching lies

into the “soft delicious Air,” and calling all

shitheads in Hell “Ethereal Virtues.”

I’m not necessarily frightened anymore by The Exorcist.

If anything, I’m more afraid of the guilt this

little twelve-year-old daughter of a movie star has,

after having twisted the director’s head completely around,

and thrown his body out of her two story window.

“You’re going to die up there,” she said.

Too bad he didn’t get the memo.

[ReganMacNeilfan]

Nice poem. 🙂

[Author]

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