Saturday, July 14, 2012

Mental Patient

Rose gold fire illuminated
the nimbus of strands --
radiating corkscrew --
haloed toilet brush
with gesticulating hands.
Hilarious tramp,
eyes glacier blue.
Wild.  Damp
spots where the mildew
can't be scrubbed,
where spiders talk to you.
They divulge scraps of truth
their liars' webs have trapped.
Fuck the minotaur who occupies
your leather and tin steamer trunk.
The Virgin Mary's face
melts from the wall.
To this party all
are invited.  Even me
with my threadbare dignity --
even I am allowed to call.
Do pardon me, how rude:
I crane my neck
to scry a sign
in your furrowed brow.
I spoke with the cow
upstairs.  What a hoot.
She adores your laconic lines.

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