Big Ears-2

He sat in his chair
Drinking his soul through
Breathless, stale, air.

He sat, staring outside
Relaxed in his pose
Watching the world with pride
Searching for his final prose.

He sat there
And sometimes
There’d be a stare
He committed no crimes
But his ears
Were as big as wind chimes

One little girl
Whose nose ended in a curl
Looked at him as kids do
Inside an imaginary train
Shouting: “CHOO-CHOO…”

And he sat there
Half cut
Slumped on his chair
One eye shut
The other, didn’t care
Hands in his lap
Mumbling his last prayer

by Marco Driver

Other poems of DRIVER (18)

Comments (2)

Wow! I could actually see the rapist saying this. It is written in a song like way that makes it feel fast, like the rapist is trying to do the rape quick and yet at the same time, take his time with pleasure. Lovely.
I like the use of form here...it works well, and a poem about rape, something so closely related to control, it's a good choice to use form. Although it's pretty disturbing, it's also really beautiful.