Friday, October 4, 2013

Closet Door

That way you looked at me lying there
as if I was a mirror
I tried to mimic your expression as best I could.
But my grotesque caricature
turned your face.

Your hand on my arm jerked me
out of the trance but it was my own hand 
on my own arm and I wondered 
if those eyes gazing down
had been yours or mine

Everyone's busy flipping through their wardrobes
for the shroud that best fits them
Combing through the tangle of wire hangers, 
piles of sloughed snakeskins and beetleshells 
for that one perfect outfit

I shiver raw as a skinned rabbit
teeth chattering as I tally the results, hoping 
my good traits end up outnumbering
or at least overpowering the questionable ones
Though who fucking knows
There’s no guarantee and if this ends up being
the last thing I ever write that seems ok
Let me be interred wearing nothing 
but this cheap threadbare suit
this word skin

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