"Last Will and Testament" [by Kimberly Steele]

Last Will and Testament

Life is a molehill of unreadable documents and death
is a stapler. If you live long enough, your footsteps
will trace out a giant Rorschach test. You can give
this to posterity. But, really, let’s face it: perception
is secondary—sight, merely a pair of training wheels,
taste, an open clamshell robbed of its meat. Don’t look
toward smell or sound—a powerless rotting carcass,
a broken carburetor. As for touch? Well, everything
touches, but only a few things I’ve heard of can feel.
Just once, I would like to grasp onto a peppermint
red and tell someone about its loud edges. Or savor
a harmonious physics equation, trace the pattern
of its oblique angles. I want to resurrect Saint Paul
and give him a vagina, then sit back and watch him
react. If you live long enough, you’ll have fixed
opinions about these sentiments, and, of course,
chaos theory. The overwhelming pity is that your
ink blots will seem just like everyone else’s, scattered
by the will of the breeze, and if you ever end up
knowing anything at all, it will certainly turn out
to be something you never wanted to know, at all.
Your children will still stop at the crosswalk and look
both ways for speeding cars. On second thought, let Paul
keep his testicles—why waste another good twat?

-- Kimberly Steele

Comments

[Jennifer Michael Hecht]

Who is Kimberly Steele? You totally rock at poetry Kimberly Steele. Please to email me at [email protected] and tell me who you are and let me say more about your vigor living verse. serious whiskey.