Deborah is the square root of
Hannah
who seems content to live life
backwards as well as forward
She came complete with
peppermint lisp
never a sour puss
just a cleansing whisper kiss
Adoration was her coronation
that she ruled over
with a wink
Some days are meant to be lived half-assed
sipping from a bottle to forget the night
reading dusty books of poetry
by writers whose name's seem
unpronounceable
living gods
writing the new commandments
and Hannah lives these new scriptures
in full fledged reverse
as a part-time drunkard
in the humid heat of Greece
where the sea is green
and lovers form pacts
irreplaceable
found laced into lyrical sessions
on paper
bound with unlikely combination of
rich men's fantasy
and the sweat
of typewriter clanging
in paradisal hell
Hannah offers in a letter retrospect
We may not have each other anymore
but I will always have your dedication page
even if I own the only copy
As I hold the paper
(somehow with an overt foreign feel to it)
I run my braille finger over it
thinking fondly of the woman whose
hand scratching melded with it
but coming to the realization that
it is the root of her evil I miss most
Erik Lauritzen 2003
Hannah
who seems content to live life
backwards as well as forward
She came complete with
peppermint lisp
never a sour puss
just a cleansing whisper kiss
Adoration was her coronation
that she ruled over
with a wink
Some days are meant to be lived half-assed
sipping from a bottle to forget the night
reading dusty books of poetry
by writers whose name's seem
unpronounceable
living gods
writing the new commandments
and Hannah lives these new scriptures
in full fledged reverse
as a part-time drunkard
in the humid heat of Greece
where the sea is green
and lovers form pacts
irreplaceable
found laced into lyrical sessions
on paper
bound with unlikely combination of
rich men's fantasy
and the sweat
of typewriter clanging
in paradisal hell
Hannah offers in a letter retrospect
We may not have each other anymore
but I will always have your dedication page
even if I own the only copy
As I hold the paper
(somehow with an overt foreign feel to it)
I run my braille finger over it
thinking fondly of the woman whose
hand scratching melded with it
but coming to the realization that
it is the root of her evil I miss most
Erik Lauritzen 2003

