Read Poem: Ativan, by David Antrobus

POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film.

I might well add

lorazepam to this list.

Please. Let me slip, then sleep.

Decades of congregants

arm-linked with benzos, all

gleaming like cumulative

dreams. I wanna hiss and creep

assembled purple, yet

they’re reds and blues and most

refuse to even meet. Summoned

and huddled below the hills.

Aye, I crawled and hurled in

your clawfoot tub.

Your throat is open; I will bring only kindness.

This. Oh, this. You harvest this…

Never forget the blue-scratch scry of the sky.

You ready yet? You marshalled

flocks and stockpiles. Corralled

a mess of ungulates. Oh. You,

woke and vital, primed to

track and keep on following,

ceaselessly fingering me,

blastocysts and humunculi,

enduring, narcotized, eternally

transgressed. Is this

how each and every goatlike story

dreams-undreams, and trips upon its end,

restless, barely dressed, so endlessly

unblessed?

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