This is a poem I wrote as a variation on a poetic form called the Ghazal (http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5781). See that website for more information on the form of ghazal poetry. Basically, these are independant images who's job is to create an overall mood in the reader. This is my favorite piece of writing to date. It's dedicated to my dad.
Steamed Bathroom Mirror
Choke me with the hands of a potter
bitten fingernails, remnants of Tennessee dirt:
color of blood.
Calloused palms, life-line clogged
with white, flaky skin – dry skin from myths like
guns blazing, pulpit thumping.
White Christ, blond, Aryan, blue eyes
painted with Pollock’s brush over a pewter cuspidor –
chalice of stone masons.
Shoulder holsters of brown leather, chafe
black leather Bibles handed out by men in gray suits
made from burlap aftershave.
Pruned toes and yellow toenails
bent where a machine crushed the purple cuticle
while a swimmer was video-taped.
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