patience

I heard this on the writer's almanac this morning, thought it was a funny commentary on patience.

Your Punishment in Hell
by Gary Leising


Someone will douse a cobra in gasoline,

light the sucker, and shove it headfirst

down your throat. It'll speed straight

through your esophagus, unfurl

its hood to fill your stomach

then begin to strike and strike and strike

and strike and strike: fangs pierce

your stomach, venom pours in,

the little burn of incipient ulcers

grows quick, paralysis sets in.

Your lungs stop before your brain,

before your hand, which lifts

to your mouth the plastic-lidded

paper cup holding the caramel

macchiato cappuccino with a double

shot of espresso and frothed soy milk

topped with two shakes of cinnamon

and no, NO (yes, you said no twice)

sugar that was made for you

slowly, while I, already running late,

waited behind you for a simple,

already-made black coffee.

You will lose all motion before

that drink reaches your mouth,

but you recover and the drink,

strangely, has vanished, and barrista

and cobra-douser-slash-lighter do it all again

and again. I know this because,

for my angry impatience,

I am behind you in line in hell

forever, the pot of black coffee

behind the counter steaming,

turning, I know, bitter.


"Your Punishment in Hell" by Gary Leising from Fastened to a Dying Animal. © Pudding House Press, 2010. Reprinted with permission.

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