November 10, 2017

Poetry: “Knowledge”

Wiped my brow of sob-damp sweat;
She never loved this lacrimal wretch.

I know
I have known
I will know

Written on the blackboard
50 times 100.
After countless wrist spasms,
Stared at the numbers;
Let the truth sink in.
Believe, grieve, repeat.

Every day
I drew the same face,
Crumpled up the paper,
And threw it away;
Then used my sex-shop whips
To play
A single-stringed fiddle
Between my thumbs.
“Hey diddle diddle!”
Miss Riddle swindled
Jack Horner’s plums.

Lipstick-embossed ligaments
Line her gold-filigreed heart
Beneath the surface:
A chasm of rot.

Well, she can keep it hanging
In her gallery
Of anecdotal art,
Just like all the others.
Just like all the others:
Furniture uncovered.

I didn’t know
I had not known
I never knew
But now
I do.


© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.

The Draft © Jane Bled


Love is a circle that doth restless move in the same sweet eternity of love. — Robert Herrick, English, 1591-1674

Real love, yes.

Thank you for allowing no sticks to slip through the cracks–for leaving no stones unturned. I almost forgot myself.


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About Jane Bled

Dreaming, writing, singing. Curious queer human. Soul-deep; heart speaks.


All Things Jane Bled, Free, Poetry, Writing


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