Danniel Schoonebeek, 'His Induction'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

His Induction

Spit you have to spit in the face of every writer who
knocks on the door with his
teacup says I’m sorry sir may I have your permission
to write sir you have to spit.
-M.

My oath is I’ll die with my hand on the Oxford bible
My President’s name on my tongue like the last town I sacked

I’ll fall on my sword so well I’ll put Rome to shame
I’ll wait for your donkeys to crazy and trample me home

Your men will tattoo my face on their feet when they wardance
Your women will stitch my name in their linens and soil them

Each town you name in my honor you’ll name smithereens
Each elm you plant me will wilt me a portrait of leaves

And when it’s your turn to kiss the rings of the bone thief
And when Manhattan is dross and piled with grave goods

I’ll death so well they’ll say dying is ripping me off
I’ll finger my name on your tongue like it was your first born

By Danniel Schoonebeek