when I slit my eyes, out falls the hand,
asking in sign language: "why the razor?
why not a feather? or a lip? or a caramel mountain?
not even sleep now, just tingles and unclaimed static."
Oh, I know! curious, you see,
to hear the direction of the smell.
no less live, a clairvoyant rat scours the air
without cats or rats or air to scour,
diseased paws stomping through the mausoleum of cheese.
"I, a paw? slanderous simian! no paw
held her breast when the howl of love split the moon; no
paw helped him lisp when the fist taught the swelling to bloom,
no paw led the pen to condemn
when the pack in attack did not swoon, no paw, but a delicate hand,
with a leather-clad God for a groom!"
hmm,
I wish I was married... what think you,
my other eloquent appendages?
on,
to the veins?
10.22.98
(
geocities.com/soho/lofts) (
geocities.com/soho)