On Looking
A tumor bloomed in my muted throat,
I had to duct tape my mind to the wordless,
had to be a spy in a watchers eye.
I'm looking at a lion staring into a camera;
under its heavy paw a gazelle
also peering into a lens
as if both were waiting, paused,
wanting to be witnessed.
Every day needs a death dance
to keep us wanting to survive
for the people,
the people watching.
I'm looking through a shop window
at televisions revealing all this,
plus my in-looking gaze.
It’s important to look good
as time drains away
in its usual hap-hazard way.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
