Angie’s blind eyes wander aimlessly in their sockets,
one white as the belly of a snake, the other a pointless blue.
She has one dress she wears every day, and a cane that is
without tip and has lost most of its red paint.
In the building she has memorized even the pale illusions
well enough to scoot about without hesitation.
She likes no one.
She likes me.
Thinks she is JFK, talks of herself quite lucidly and with
deadly accurateness.
Found herself a spirit-lover, asked me to perform a
marriage ceremony for them. It’s a sad
life with no one in it, although that does not apply to me,
who loves my self-imposed isolationism beyond reason.
I find a pretty stone broach, a stuffed teddy bear holding a
red satin heart that says, “I love you…” and a doll with
ribbons in its hair - these were her dowry.
I say the words over my open Bible, inviting blasphemy
to call out my name.
Now, she has become a Velcro-shadow.
When I am ill her zeal to cure me is fanaticism incarnate.
Foolish woman, I - who chose her own path to trod,
but along the way tripped over a crippled bird that is sure
to peck her to death.
Oh my she said what loquacity to speak to me that way in short she was being short which to me is puzzling with prolixity with her haughty grandiloquence to say what I find garrulous Her opinion also me thinks to be concise rhymes with logorrhea I apologize for my dear lady for any misunderstandings on your Part to be precise and to the point I am going to drag this sokal affair out into the open with all the facts with such verbosity that you will get the dust out your dictionary and contrary to public accurateness read and understand the word and not change it to appease itching ears Disclaimer I was not in intentionally trying to harm anyone I hope no one was hurt by a seemingly long rant
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.