Grotesque
mask. enchanted by the orange hammock
moon, thin as if Atlas drew it with a sharp pencil,
detail of an escape plan he made while pretending
to work on company-related business. my neck
rests against a lip of cave a lion mouths off in.
he is rattled by the rain.
not me. intermittent driplets feel like kisses.
my throat is thick as stucco. my song stays in.
little leather straps have been worked
into my plaster for good. i do not absorb rain.
it wont wash my damp leafing. the mask gives me
an undeserved symmetry.
moon, thin as if Atlas drew it with a sharp pencil,
detail of an escape plan he made while pretending
to work on company-related business. my neck
rests against a lip of cave a lion mouths off in.
he is rattled by the rain.
not me. intermittent driplets feel like kisses.
my throat is thick as stucco. my song stays in.
little leather straps have been worked
into my plaster for good. i do not absorb rain.
it wont wash my damp leafing. the mask gives me
an undeserved symmetry.
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Insultzan Dinquiries