ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Love wrenches double on a street corner,
chest full of dripping tar,
a cough that will not go away.
chest full of dripping tar,
a cough that will not go away.
![[096] Labels](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/aee12110-7f8a-48da-aafb-6f863566ec03/da7pd99-8c485d6e-0899-48a2-b7c2-09fa3ed917d8.jpg/v1/crop/w_184,h_184,x_12,y_0,scl_0.23173803526448,q_70,strp/_096__labels_by_mcptato_da7pd99-92s-2x.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9Nzk0IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvYWVlMTIxMTAtN2Y4YS00OGRhLWFhZmItNmY4NjM1NjZlYzAzXC9kYTdwZDk5LThjNDg1ZDZlLTA4OTktNDhhMi1iN2MyLTA5ZmEzZWQ5MTdkOC5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTAwMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.GSfwoUHBrLspVGbdfeDfmRY83_dvHbVJiPqCG2pccmk)
![[096] Labels](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/aee12110-7f8a-48da-aafb-6f863566ec03/da7pd99-8c485d6e-0899-48a2-b7c2-09fa3ed917d8.jpg/v1/crop/w_92,h_92,x_6,y_0,scl_0.11586901763224,q_70,strp/_096__labels_by_mcptato_da7pd99-92s.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9Nzk0IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvYWVlMTIxMTAtN2Y4YS00OGRhLWFhZmItNmY4NjM1NjZlYzAzXC9kYTdwZDk5LThjNDg1ZDZlLTA4OTktNDhhMi1iN2MyLTA5ZmEzZWQ5MTdkOC5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTAwMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.GSfwoUHBrLspVGbdfeDfmRY83_dvHbVJiPqCG2pccmk)
I have a cough that will not go away.
© 2012 - 2024 winterkate
Comments3
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This reminds me of Diane Wakoski's "Blue Monday".
Love wrenches double on a street corner,
passes me in a blue business suit
and fedora.
His glass cane, hollow and filled with
sharks and whales ...
“Love,” I said.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
“Mr. Love,” I said.
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
chest full of dripping tar,
a cough that will not go away.
a cough that will not go away.
Perhaps its best if we keep our larynx
just where it is, at home,
stuck between the words "voice" and
"cancer" in a very screwed-up dictionary.
Love passed me by in a blue business suit,
coughing and wheezing into a satin hanky.
Sad man with a sad fate, his glass chest
hollow and filled
with a cancer that will not go away.
In both your piece and Wakoski's, Love is a personified figure representing the fallibility and imperfection of human love. That he is an arrogant, otherworldly banker in "Blue Monday" and a vulnerable, retching streetwalker in your piece, "Fear", offers a very strange juxtaposition. In my mind I saw a broken man with a huge salary and a wallet to match. His sensibilities have never stooped so low as the shortest branch of an Imperial Oak, though a fat lot of good that will do a dying man. Love has tuberculosis, or cancer, or some other disease grown so widespread and unwieldy that the only antibiotic that could save his life goes beyond even his many-headed insurance plans.
But, like many millionaire apotheotics, Love has enough samples and splinters of himself cryogenically frozen to ensure survival. Revival, even. As with the next generation of loosely-defined youth, he will descend upon their mentalities like a shark in cold-blooded waters.