English poetry

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Decline

naked along the side of the house,
8 a. m., spreading sesame seed oil
Over my body, Jesus, have I come
To this?
I once battled in dark alleys for a
Laugh.
Now I’m not laughing.
I splash myself with oil and wonder,
How many years do you want?
How many days?
My blood is soiled and a dark
Angel sits in my brain.
Things are made of something and
Go to nothing.
I understand the fall of cities, of
Nations.
A small plane passes overhead.
I look upward as if it made sense to
Look upward.
It’s true, the sky has rotted:
It won’t be long for any of
Us.
From The Olympia Review – 1994


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Poem Decline - Charles Bukowski