2004 Student Poetry Award

He has every right to take revenge on someone, anyone,
Preferably after my death,
But it doesn't even matter anymore,
I am hounded by Furies,
Listening to relatives cackle over suicides
And talk about that awful Aeneas,
I am awful,
I was awful,
Forgive me Dido you know these things
Tell me I wasn't as bad as I think I was,
And deep inside my topaz heart
I worry that I'm all out of butter,
I kicked blind Cupid, am I going to hell,
Tell me I acted appropriately,
I want heaven,
I want to sit in Elysium,
Sip nectar,
Spew bile,
No guilt.
He should just die already
In death, you never have to say you're pathetic
And self-pity is encouraged.
Someone told me he swooned;
I doubt it, but you're the expert,
And if there's one thing I learned from you,
The only difference between swooning and tripping
Is the arms you fall into.