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The Librarian, Twenty Years Later, in a More Public PlaceTo Jonathan Penton's previous piece     I Can Do this Better DrunkTo Jonathan Penton's next piece


What do you
know of desire,
that you would sacrifice yourself
so utterly on its knee

What has you huddled
in a corner
talking to emotions you never
knew existed
breaking yourself on tiny stings of flesh

What,
child,
do you propose to tell me about
i have lived through a hundred thousand
tonight?

You for whom death
is a big-budget movie
or, at most,
a fashionable outfit
You whose body has never betrayed you
now look at me with eyelid shine
that melts into
the scowl you will wear
for the rest of your life

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