A Poem for National Poetry Month: With the Lame Man, One

With the Lame Man, One

Written on April 14, 2017, to celebrate National Poetry Month, this piece is an experimental form about an attempted assassination, perhaps influenced by the sound of the old television series of Dune playing in the background—but only a little.

“Walk,” the lame man said,
and I obeyed.
I took
first one step
and then another.
Behind me, I heard him whisper,
“Run,” he said,
and I obeyed.
I sped
my steps,
each one falling faster
than the one that went before.
“Run!” he said,
when I hesitated.
And his voice compelled me,
each stride driven by its sound,
when I wanted nothing more
than to turn back,
to return
and rescue him.
His words roared through me,
and I obeyed,
their compulsion too strong,
an order
that settled inside my head
and overrode my mind.
And then,
when I felt that all was lost,
that I had lost him,
and my heart,
he said,
and I obeyed,
sliding to a halt,
his hand on my arm,
though I had left him,
far behind,
as the roof caved in,
the room
Yet, here we stood,
his hand on my shoulder,
me turning into his arms.
Safe as the fury flew around us,
took the door from its hinges,
the walls from their foundations,
our rooms
to the sky,
while we stood firm,
an island of peace in the maelstrom,
as we
had stood before,
when others had tried
to take our lives.
“Stay,” I said,
and he obeyed,
his arms around me,
as I demanded,
our heads bowed,
our thoughts entwined,
our minds hunting the origin
of our assassin.
This time,
we would find them,
reverse the maelstrom,
send it swirling through
their treach’rous hearts
tearing them asunder,
sending them racing
for their lives,
in futility,
for we were one,
our minds now joined,
one thought:


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