I wish I could imagine
sky filled the space
between his skull,
but that would insult
the window to the moon.
There is coldness in the weeds
that cover his tongue, tiny barbs
he hopes will leave scars.
He hates I never buy a ticket
to his Meme and Repeat, and
that I have a library card where
shelves of history books prove
he’s only a bit actor in a theater of rerun.
It is funny to see him stand naked
while screaming he’s wearing Armani.
Mute is more threat than answer.
The man just doesn’t understand
I know where and how to use my words.
There’s no use in striking a match
when a snowflake is already melting.
©Susie Clevenger 2025
What a stunning and powerful ending to this impactful poem - Jae
ReplyDeleteKa-pow! I love "He's only a bit actor in a theatre of rerun." May it be a short run! So powerful, especially those closing lines.
ReplyDeleteand DOWN goes orange idiot! You let him have it bigtime, Susie!
ReplyDelete"I know where and how to use my words." Yes, you do. And you do it so well.
ReplyDeleteWonderfully imaginative. I can just SEE what is happening in your stanzas. Chuckled about the naked guy screaming he was wearing Armani!! Smiles.
ReplyDeleteExcoriating, Susie, and what an indictment of all like him, "a bit actor in a theater of rerun."
ReplyDelete