surface

Oscar Performance



On the surface,
your exterior is cool,
collected, refined;
everything pulled
together, as expected.
But, I'm no fool, dearest.

Your poise is a plot,
a dull noise, a fake set,
like a Hollywood backlot.
The interiors aren't empty,
they're full of trouble.
No stunt double;

you don't mind getting wet.
I've seen the outtakes,
clips on the cutting room floor;
your roar over hangers,
uneaten food,
drips down the hall.

You deserve an Oscar
for the meat fork blunder,
the blood on the wall,
the scene with the knife.

God, it's a wonder
you weren't locked up for life.



willow, 2010


This product is meant for entertainment purposes only. All characters and
events in this poem are (maybe) fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Not
recommended for children. Use only in a well-ventilated area. Keep away
from fire or flames. Shading within garment may occur. Avoid contact with
skin. Reader assumes full responsibility. You need not be present to win.

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