CONFRONT LIVING

CONFRONT LIVING

I believe him to be fearless, this man I pinned
With my best new pin, also an old one, worn
With the long-imagined practice
Of pinning. I took the sharp and it was precisely
Pierced into the front of him, not for display purposes
But this time love. It might sound violent to plunge
A point into a man’s face, but I’m not
Pacifist. Sometimes
There is a need for blood spill, or anyhow making
A hole for the liquor to leak. And letting it.
But back to the first point, we have decided to
Not fight anymore, although it’s sometimes forgot
And a spatter of bile hurls from one mouth
Hole to the smooth pale plain of the other, blanched
By fright. And this is what I mean when
I say this poem is about
Bravery, because I know this hero
Of mine trembles. Late night sorrow sweats
I never hear and it would greatly
Embarrass me, to do so.
It is alright to leave this well
Alone, the fear of my champion. It’s not
What you feel that’s everything but what
You do, not meaning there isn’t a huge place
For compassion. But because this man
Has fear, acts without it, he is in truth
Courageous, because it is not known.