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2008-12-29
John Sholto Douglas, 8th Marquess of Queensbury
B. 7.20.1844 Florence / D. 1.31.1900 London
Badness
What is morbidity but a mood of emotion or a mode of thought that one cannot express?
(The Soul of Man Under Socialism, Oscar Wilde, 1891)
What is morbidity?
It’s killed me that I didn’t get to be with you
or you.
This is morbidity:
It’s slain me not to share your kiss—
but something went amiss
The gray of cold afternoons
something went amiss in how I needed to be near
or far away
The sedentary’s back and bowel complaints
when you were part of the romance
chances were untaken
Yogic disciplines abandoned
vital distances between us stayed uncrossed
while I clung.
Why am I so morbid?
It was expected of me that I would be rich
and famous.
This is the reason:
It shames me to admit this
but I bought it too
Walls lined with opera recordings and books
I’m still buying every day if I am honest
and unguarded
The mother in the parlor with the ear
daydream oases beckon me to linger in the days between us
while I think of you instead—
Patriarchy snores
when you are part of the equation
chances are I’ll be okay.
Consolation Site: Better than Boxing Day