The Sweet Hell Within

by Thomas Zimmerman

So sweet it makes her sick--her lovers, too,
those treacled demons from your depths. So sweet
she retches when she tries to sing to you,
but you're all ears and write it down, scrawled sheet

by sheet, then wrench it into fractured rhyme.
So sweet the plum-ripe bruises on her knees,
your own spat oaths that daub the moon with slime.
So sweet the honey, dark with years, with bees

that never lived except inside your skull,
its hive of bone abuzz with drones and stings
of rites and hymns. So sweet the banes that mull,
preserved, within your heart. So sweet the strings

your falling angels pluck. So sweet your muse,
so sick, so much like you, you can't refuse.

Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits two literary magazines at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, MI. Poems of his have appeared recently in Poor Mojo's Almanac(k), Yellow Mama, and Abandoned Towers. He thinks the mask that would choose him would be the one he wears to work: that of a caring, enthusiastic educator; he says it fits his face exactly.

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