Sad as a Poem Should Be

the theater is in the skin. the audience and the play are the same. melted snowflakes on the tip of a child's tongue. as the winter feigns its end. stubborn carcasses patiently waiting for the scavengers to pick up on their stench.

the script is in the touch. the jeers and applause are no different. icicles on her chin. tomorrow in thin lies. the bull wears its horns at both ends.

reasoning with the witches. about the merits of spells. discussing with the demons the benefits of hell.

as the choices present themselves on the slick of the glass. a series of parallel views on the same single view. just one question.

no one to ask.