Effigies Poem by GRANT FRASER

You charge
towards a door,
with an axe,
then skirl...

'Poetry love
me back! ',

Poetry loves
Poetry saves,
heals...

It isn't her fault,
God - damn it!
If I see snakes!

They're already here,
and on the make,

You cut up thought,
or bind and string them,

What the hell is this?

Poetry trips
Poetry flies,
into the unknown...

Come here,
I just find it
harder and harder
to confide in,

Your either too dark
or enigmatic,
or a cessation
around worried red lips,

I didn't think we
were like that?

Look there must
be diamonds somewhere
inside there....

Poetry conceits,
Poetry cheats!
the rest of us
and the best,

Just build me
a word shield,
to hide in....

And that's obviously
the only logical way
to **** ourselves clean -

My Medusa!