chime in while I crunch toast,
facing head-on, paperless,
over the constant rhythm of dishes.
Watch me squat alone, closeted,
protagonist in some unmade movie.
Spin me around, undo my ponytail,
take a Polaroid, then peel back―
wait until I appear nude and pure,
molecules settle in perfect spheres.
Say anything, give lip service
with the compression of a zip.
Deliver in breakneck speed―
we should wear a helmet!
Thanks to the most excellent R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this poem.
|Ponytail by Last Exit|