The Rearview Mirrors Have Begun to WearQiana Towns
Alice the oblong goddess wraps herself in Mardi Grad beads, red and blue sway from her arched back. Arturo the side gaper ruminates as the repairman rips duct tape from his face, exposing cracks in his figure. The faults in his flesh cry out: the future is flawless, the past fragmented. He remembers how Alice replaced Slippery Sally when an aversion to adhesive upset Sally’s functions. He knows that time is not a friend and death is akin to fractured love. Again, she screams, again you look too close; this is why you can never find answers. One cannot know how this all belongs. And how, he cries as his remains are swept from the concrete floor.
Qiana Towns Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2019, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|