XX Having (from Lutèce, te amo)
watched a man throttled near to death, heard
to retch, to reach a scream, the flail of vocal folds
to find sufficient breath. Having felt the ‘jolt’
me back to where that stoned nut-job
his laptop hooked to an amp: the near dead
of a man in surround-sound, just-off beheaded.
traversed the boulevard, the chinoises hookers;
past this kid, gaunt, hunched below the portico,
smack or base, I come to my shanty studio
this little étude of you – that Egon Schiele pose –
to him, forever inadequate to you.
Unpublished poem from Lutèce, te amo, © Ahren Warner 2012, used by permission of the author