Arabian Star

Arabian Gilt

there is a part of me
which is totally and utterly bewildered
all those people who render me
in wisdom or insight,
they have no idea.
underneath the deliberate
sanguine affair of my eyes
and my wry-loaded grin.
there lies a lie.

what facility do they expect me to have?
this measured but immeasurable scrutability
that penetrates to the heart of their dilemma/need? no. i don't possess
this. i have only the carnival hucksters stall to offer. if i cross
your path with an attentive posture, you may cross my palm with silvine
revelations. and i become the richer.

there is no grand gesture on my part.
merely a gaudy paper heart.
and when the glue unadheres and the arabian gilt star falls off, then
you gladly return to the swill of the crowd, cackling at how pointless
it all was.

and i instantly revert to stage make-up piety and humility, caked on so
that even in close up you can't see every repulsive pore of
anguish.