*
The worm sits on a bowl -- in pain, content,
both things at once. There is a theatre
confronting it -- a bathtub, white, recessed,
expectant, with a hollow to fill up.
The California shadows want to be
performers -- want to act a mystery
and not just be mysterious, as now.
A red towel hangs, a victim as it were,
and not just what a victim would have worn.
Cloth is kin to the creature dripping blood
into the bowl, the worm. A play begins,
a mystery. The tub is bare and white!
There is a stubborn doorway through its bright
recess -- both open wide and now shut tight.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment