Go Ahead

by Thomas Piekarski


You toothy soothsayers can all line up now;
here’s your big chance to get back at me.
You’ve been waiting all this time to prove
you’re better than I am. I’m going to give in,
allow you to toss me flat on my back upon
a bed of red-hot coals, nail my svelte hands
and feet into the ground beneath, and then
hoot until your hearts are content. Go ahead.
 
I’ve been waiting for this day when truth
would finally be wrung out under duress
in the absence of its fraternal twin beauty.
Only one thing, if you wouldn’t mind,
if you’d be so kind, grant me one request,
which is that once all the water is fried
out of my body, and I’ve become a sizzling
charred heap, start throwing lightning bolts.
 
Strike my forehead like the marksmen you
are; bury those lightning bolts dead center,
paid assassins, mercenaries, pitiful puff.
You’ll expect me to recant my faith in you,
but it won’t occur to me to bite the hand
that often reaches out in my hour of need.
The sun’s reflections shall slurp my face
while pain and suffering slowly dismantle.