I always assumed death
would devour me
in his dense boney fingers,
snuff out my life, like
crushing flies on a window pane;
I would write
of the blackest mold
beneath my eyelids.
books with spines
spewing sunshine and
of paper inside me.
Now, I press
at the balls of my feet,
waiting for anything
to devour me.
Enoch Thompson is an aspiring poet and storyteller. He was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan. He has been homeless off and on since he turned 18. He taught himself how to read, which is why he has a passion for reading and writing. He believes that becoming the best writer he can be is how he can become the best person he can be. He says that the written word has affected him by opening his mind to various new perspectives and possibilities. He hopes one day that his writing will be mind-blowing. Currently, he is a student at Utah State University-Eastern in southeastern Utah. For more poetry by Enoch, go here and here.
The illustrating image, “La Danse de la Mort” by Joesph Sattler, is in the public domain.
3 thoughts on “The Whole of My Interest by Enoch Thompson”
THe poem has good progression. I love your first stanza–it strikes a whimsical chord inside of me, in spite of the serious subject matter.
Your second and third stanzas lead me to think you feel too “devoured” by your inner life, so you wish for something else to devour you….
I like the first verse paragraph best, I think: stark, gothic, but strangely lyrical all the same. Dickinson without the allegiance to meter.
I love the first stanza and how it’s reflected in a kind of mirror image or reverse image in the third.
But I really love how the second verse hinges the poem, like the spine of a book.
You’ve got a good instinct for verse, Enoch. Keep ’em comin’.