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!
tk/May 2013
Thanks to the most excellent R.A.D. Stainforth for reading this poem.
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| Ponytail by Last Exit |
