Silver Readied

I can’t say why I turned up

All gooseflesh and shifting eyes in

A fervor, not sure what my hands had

On their mind or why they were

Keeping time by pulling hairs and scratching

Itches that were never there.

I can’t say why I took to

The back seat while I watched

A gossamer fellow with Mariana pupils

Give me a countdown,

Silver readied in his palm but

Rust in all his exhales.

I can’t say why a static set

In and blotched doubt into the

Wrinkled gray satin I tend to

Smother myself in when the sun is

A little too bright and the world

Spins a little too fast for me.

I can’t say why, when I was

Bleeding molasses, understanding rippled

From that crevassed canvas, each

Droplet beading down, clinging to

My gaze, begging to be soiled in

The open air with friends.

I can’t say why the mold wasn’t agreeable,

Why the wires were crossed,

Or why there wasn’t anyone to blame

But the reptilian in the mirror snapping

His talons, politely hissing for me

To grab some goddamned paper towels.