Eulogy for a Psychopath by Nancy Ames"I remember him like...
an angry aftertaste,
bitter, that`s one thing,
not very important now,
also one hot blistering
day in the desert when
there was...maybe it was
only a mirage but yes,
yes, okay, I`ll say it...
there was his hand,
his hand in the sun,
his hand in the sun,
his hand like a lion`s
purring mouth...
purring and purring
and holding a gun.
He always displayed
excellent taste in
his choice of victims.
I will give him that,
the sly old bastard.
And also, there is
possibly somewhere
a faded photograph,
the fierce dark eyes
of a ragged child,
like a small but
significant ghost." 03/03/2015
Author's Note: Here I am just trying to explore the notion that even the worst of us began as infants but somehow missed growing up human.
Posted on 03/03/2015 Copyright © 2024 Nancy Ames
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/03/15 at 10:16 PM I like how you expand on the title, Nancy. Your Author's Note, also well expressed, reminds me of several documentaries I've seen on the subject, in which certain (but not all) psychopaths were severely abused by one or both parents. |
Posted by Ken Harnisch on 03/04/15 at 05:24 PM the two worst people I ever knew growing up in a mean streets New York City housing project had horrible childhoods. I am a great believer in the theory you've evinced in this poem, Nancy |
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