Damn Good Poem (Jericho Brown).


This is what your dying looks like.
You believe in the sun.  You believe
I don’t love you.  Always be closing,
Said our favorite professor before
He let the gun go off in his mouth.
I turned 29 the way any man turns
In his sleep, unaware of the earth
Moving beneath him, its plates in
Their places, a dated disagreement.
Let’s fight about it, baby.  You have
Only so long left.  A man turns
In his sleep, so I take a picture.
He won’t look at it, of course.  It’s
His bad side, his Mr. Hyde, the hole
In a husband’s head, the O
Of his wife’s mouth.  Every night,
I take a pill.  Miss one, and I’m gone.
Miss two, and we’re through.  Hotels
Bore me, unless I get a mountain view,
A room in which my cell won’t work,
And there’s nothing to do but see
The sun go down into the ground
That cradles us as any coffin can.

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