Monday, August 4, 2008

Poem Without a Happy Ending

Remain an instant
to regard this man,
so utterly

without a hand
in the deportment
of his limbs,

who stands by virtue
solely of the steady
arm of his companion –

woman too inured
to the battalion

of his spasms to do
more than “be”
and affectlessly lead:

retain the image
of his tongue
sprung out

in twitchy rhythms
like a lizard
from his lips,

and his too-mobile
eyes which blink
beneath the visor

of a baseball cap
in the illusion
of perpetual surprise.


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