Take It Or Leave It


Mark Andrew Holmes

If you really wanted to die,

You would be dead already.

Don't call the hotline—

Instead, call your Mother...

Your Father gets to decide.

The wind penetrates.

The sun's under your shoes.

The sky is a pewter bowl to drink poison from.

The sine wave is in a trough.

You do what you really want—

What you want and what It wants, and vice versa

(He, She, whatever)—

Can't escape it; sorry.

The sine wave is in a trough.

Does it swing up or go flat?


It always swings up;

But it may also go flat;

When you hit the ground,

The sound

Of rotting grapefruit will really be heard the whole world round.

(What did the captain of the Californian say?)

© 2011 by Mark Andrew Holmes.

Endnotes to this poem may be found here.

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