When facile similes relate the self
to larger but shallower tendencies,
it is an indication of the gulf
that rests between passions and memories:
There are flames in my eyes for the cold truth,
the little flutters that pass over me
as I dream or think about the mask-tooth
that sustains my fears of the deep black sea:
There is fat on gums, gristle on the spoon
that I lift up to eat, like you all do
wherever that is that you come from; soon
I will be the same as you all, as you:
The only aim in life is to fit in;
thank God that sight is crooked like blind sin.
urbansonnets 