Poem

Christening

One of those white faced street actors mimed me
and I punched him in the nose for it.

The white face rubbed off on my knuckles.
The white face migrated to my face.

I was scared and wanted to scream,
but my mouth opened wide and no sound came out.

I felt boxed in and measured the exact size of my box.
It was thirty-seven and a half hands cubed.

I learned how to pull a rope.
The rope I pulled drew the white clouds across the sky.


copyright © 10 Apr 2018 Kenneth P. Gurney

 

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