Free verse № 128770
final act
he started, brash,
his own criminal
stealing self from species publicly--
performance art in the market square--
he slashed himself long and laughed
daring us to see
crazy man, standing akimbo,
red flags fluttering
as gasps, gasps, and backing off
and eyes seared to the scene
he groaned like jazz on an open groove
the center of his own circle
unrelenting, then suddenly wretched
but measured
never forgetting his audience
he streamed round, screamed
white, white eyes realizing
round not seeing
us circled round
his senseless senses
leaving the present
he swaggered in his pain
swathed in agony
spun himself with glory, red and wet
spun and splattered us who rushed in
makeshift bandages dry as he flailed
to keep us away
until it was too late.
2 comments
Where have you been, anyway? Methinks I've rather missed you, Tilde.
Don't let my rambling detract from the fact that I loved reading this. -10-
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