my phantom limbs like King Hamlet’s ghost
bear keen witness (grasping hands ever reaching/
haunted feet o’er hallowed earth)
wiry nerves of molten yellow steel groan of a birth long overdue
I’m a seedbed in May.
my drugs have withdrawn from me their happy black talons
find no rest on my pocked and guano-white masts
numb me I mouth-their silent answer nevermore
sex and chastity have sunk their sounding
lines in me (found me shallow/
left me empty)
tell me: which bird or daemon
has placed these seeds in me
their germination’s maggot writhing
threatens like Jack’s bean to pierce the very heaven and its host
its a curious unrest my phantom limbs bring me
if this is sleep-let me dream
if a dream-may I wake to life
and if life it is (what terrifying/
beauty odd and awful is mine)
and I-eating dust limbless and hissing
rattle discordant struck by The Bell Hammer
(in the great pendulous sweep that overshadows/is us)
what a long and lonely road it is to Emmaus!
I stop for no one-I speak to no one
I know this road well my slalom carved s is deep
my skins dot hills
my phantom limbs’ echoes crying
The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life, Now weares his Crowne!
Ryan McGivern
